The Big Steal

 

 

The shadow of night draped over

like curtains hiding a primitive yet mystical mist

of sensibilities in the suburban home of an octogenarian modernist

Buildings covered in smudged dusty plastic and designs of clover

 

cover rustic furniture in the living room of old black Midwest family

After strolling around the antique coffee table corners, invisible borders

I was met with a pistol. The now unconcealed carrier orders

me to empty my pockets, hand over my wallet, they threatened gamily

 

all thoughts and sensibilities and logic drained down

the barrow of the gun. I submitted to the barrow logic of the gun.

My life started and ended with the gun. In this immersive logic one drowns

 

All life started and will end with the gun. The cretin paused the bank run

As I surrendered the content of my pockets, the cretin relayed the true steal

The gun men stated that the gun was not real

 

In a moment my glass reality shattered

Game over man, what the fuck we gonna do now?

To alleviate my nihilism I learned to stop worrying and love gun

 

I continued to empty my pockets