SO NOW THE MATTER LINGERS
I watched a guy die. Once. Shot
in the gut a few times in some dumb
Biker scramble. A 'fracas' of sorts.
He had cohorts, yes - but he was
the only one shot. And killed. And,
eventually, buried.
-
When he twirled down I wondered
to myself, 'What now?' It was like
'Will he get back up?' and 'How does
this work?' The day was chilly, and
gloomy too; sort of like today.
-
A stupid old town named Manville.
A real Jersey dump. The town was
always idle, even when it was busy.
Bars there were : Scotty's, Charlotte's,
and another one named Stumpy's, or
something like that. I used to ask
Mugsy for a mug.
-
Then, one day, the shooting started.
Just like that. Club stuff; it was my
Pagan friend, a nice enough guy from
Westfield no less. I'd use his name, but
I too want to live. Get that. I too want
to live.
-
That twirling threshold of going down?
It's certainly not for me.
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