Monday, September 17, 2007

Why so much death? Because I am afraid.

Then, like an idiot###, I picked up myself and walked back toward the men who shot me. Only one of them shot me. Armwise. I walked back toward him and the other men, winged, bloody, in shock, expecting they’d have realized their error, they didn’t mean it, thought I was someone else, they’d like to help out. I walked stably. Maybe I could have pulled up my bike and glid home, all down a slight hill, but still was I a few blocks out and doubted could I make it. I figured could they give me a ride. Their car was so nice and cavernous like a gold-trimmed ambulance. But black like a hearse, too, sure, although I didn’t think of that then, like an idiot##. I picked up myself then and walked back toward the man who shot me, one of them, but another man stepped forward expecting to realize my error. I thought I was someone else. Maybe could I have pulled up my bike down a few blocks, leaning bent like a winged man ahorse, or in their big black car, like an idiot# I thought finally then.

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