Friday, August 14, 2009

496. DEAD OTIS

DEAD OTIS
They spilled blood in the wagoner's cabin;
just as he was entering the shed. Two errant
bullets ricocheted from somewhere and entered
his chest. No Civil War malfeasance this - since
the borders had been cleared and hostilities
(we'd thought) were over. Never put it past
some drunken Arkansan shithead to spoil
the pot with bad vengeance. Hillbillies from the
distant mountain still reckoning with a grudge.
A dying man's blood can drown him in his
own lungs. We never figured for that,
and there was nothing we could do.

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