The Scary Part We were all a bit drunk after the card game except for Joe who was our DD and he never drank much anyway And tonight he hadn’t touched a drop, which was a little unusual I won the pot Which could barely cover gas fare for the ride home but was just enough for another round and somehow the talk got around to these dumb kids and their zombies and vampires and we all wanted to keep on throwing trump so it was Mike who asked us to ante up one more time “What I want to know,” he said with just a creep of a lisp “Is what was the single scariest fucking moment of your life, Get me?” Between near-miss head-on car crashes and muggings at gunpoint and the flowerpot that fell from four stories at my feet It was a toss up But Joe hadn’t said anything yet and his lips were puckered and moving in and out a little like he held an ace until he cleared his throat “And?” said Mike, who was ready to rake in the winnings with his midnight stick-up on the subway “It was the weight of her absence,” said Joe, dream-like, “As I had my arm around her. It crushed me like a ton of bricks.” We all looked at him and at each other, as if … “So what happened,” asked Mike, breaking the ice “Nothing. That’s the scary part. She doesn’t even know she’s gone.” It was pretty quiet Finally Mike told Joe he was a morbid son of a bitch and couldn’t leave the premises without at least one beer And the zombies and vampires took over until we all piled into Joe’s car like nothing had happened Which was the truth, I thought, wasn’t it? I was the last to be dropped off and I nodded to Joe as he drove away And he winked and threw his chin up into the air a little Meaning same time next week It took a while Despite the starless night To make it to my door ________________________________________________________________________ Emanuel E. García, Leaf Thoughts, One Hundred Poems, 2013 |