Sammael
By Entropy
A mile in his shoes That was the lesson. He had Glenlivet on his breath And two shoes, one red; one gray He smelt of cookies and blood A coppery blend of home and hospital. He had green eyes Black hair Haggard youth; that need that seeks He was more me, than myth. I wondered how the stool could hold him Every part of him seemed fluid So very ready to dissolve. He fumbled a cigarette to his lips, I fished my lighter from my pocket Click, click, flame. He couldn’t see me, Through the flame I’m sure of it. I was background, Afterthought As much flicker as excited butane. There, in the neon We were so alike At fifteen to two. Lost in ourselves, Making that last drink Before last call As much a memory As we had heart to dream. Drawn and empty It wasn’t where we were But need To lose our loss. He left first, Staggering and laughable He never looked back I still do. -C.A.Wooding. Written October 31st, 2001 © on Nov 21 2001 04:05 AM PST 18 • 0 • 13
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"A mile in his shoes..."