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3 38%
2 25%
3 38%
Voters: 8.
Sir Thomas the Quiet

I've been watching her forever.

Supple curves and a birthmark on her left thigh.
She's so embarrassed by it. Always puts make up
over it while she's getting ready for the day;
even though no one ever sees that far up
her long long toned legs.

Her current boy is a douche.
I watch him too. Not when he's naked though;
he's not pretty.
He's ugly.
Like scuff marks on a newly cleaned and bleached
tile floor; he sticks out against a beautiful world...
he is sin and hell and evil.

He tells her she's fat and
too stupid to amount to
anything at all.

He hits her.
hits her with his fists.

And I watch. But I can't do anything.
If I did, she'd know I exist.
That's just too risky.


Last week I watched as he broke her.
Bones and soul.
His neck tie,
her remedy

feet kicked; legs stretched forever toward the floor
and she was gorgeous; the beautiful side of death.
Her body a hand carved oak casket,
with intricate designs so wondrous
only God could have crafted them.

I couldn't do anything.
I'm a watcher. I don't cry wolf.

She spun toward the window;
I had my moment with her.
Eye to eye. Heart to heart.
Death to Life.
We loved each other to the end.

Sunrise (Amalgram: Part I)

It's not yet dawn.

Sarah's place always looks best
in the night-life light.
She has neon signs in her windows.
They're screaming, "Free kinky sex here!"
and a smaller sign dangles underneath
with the disclaimer:
"it's only free if you're muscular."

Amalgram has sent me here again.
Prowl, he says.
Ninety days in jail...
he talked and talked in my ears;
"we won't prowl Sarah anymore...
she's a bad girl now. She told on us.
We'll just watch her, and carry knives."

I hated the sound of that.
But, one doesn't disobey the Amalgram.
He's the one with all the blades;
and access to arms and legs and cock.
He'll whisper all night.
Just loud enough to keep me awake;
no sleep makes the chickens forget to cackle
and remember how good life is.

Amalgram says to wait for dawn,
let Sarah have one last joyous awakening.
I'd rather go home and let Sarah die
from syphillis.

But, Amalgram said.


and it's not yet dawn.

Sailors Take Warning.

Erin and I had curled up on the hillside,
looking to the sky and sculpting clouds into
animals and plants and beer bottles and faces.
She was the first friend I'd had in years.

But the sun became angry,
dropped his shoulders and burnt the sky dead;
"you'll never take me alive"
and he meant it.

I saw a cloud that looked like New York City;
and the fire grew closer and closer and closer
until all the little people in the cloud
shrieked, cried, gasped, moaned.

"Erin, my imaginary friends all died."

She lay lifeless in my arms.