sweet sweet liar of heroes' half-told truths,
did you dance in the dust like he did?
or did you wax capricious and kick the phonograph,
sing your madrigals silently in the dark?
I know the boy you used to be:
the way his laughter floated,
over the red, crumbling clay.
how much does it hurt
to remember the claws that spread your chest wide
then sliced your spirit and let the ardor flow...
am I what the ricochet found?
someone will be the next to sink her talons and rip your heart
but I won't let it be me.
18 October 2000