13,721. THIS IS WONDERLAND FULLY, JUST A STAB

THIS IS WONDERLAND FULLY, 

JUST A STAB

I think it takes a person a lifetime to

actually become what they really are. 

Like me, for instance. Once I stabbed

for death and left it all behind, then I 

closed the door on a wicked book. You

think I cared a whit about who lived

or died? Sammy Gravano had nothing

on me. Now? It's all carbines and 

Nature. A dead future, waiting to be.

-

I sometimes just sit and watch the

cars go buy; noticing things, realizing

my little regard for people, how I hate

the world. This good book on my lap,

just delivered by some loser in a kettle

bonnet, tells me to judge not, lest I

be judged. OK, that's good enough

for me. Eat not, lest ye be eaten?

-

I am a scamp, a regular Mark Twain

scoundrel, but without the cigar. He

smoked 47 a day, it says in the bio

I read. I wonder, how can that be,

and for years? That like every half

hour, the jerk. The word around was

that he stunk, dressed like a bum,

and was foul and rude. A man has 

a right to be whatever he will.

-

Back in Metuchen, I had a few

friends; people like that: The

guy, Darrell, with a knife-scar

right across his face, fully; Billy

English, who shot up the local

Ford plant in a fit of anger over

computerized trains. Two local

whores, always willing to drop at

the Durham Cafe. Life was good

then, in its screwed-up way.