We were
sitting around
talking.
I had a gun
in my hand
I should have known
was loaded
having
already been through
one of those
living hells
in which you realize
you must tell
someone you like
and are paying well
who has not
said a word
that
he did sloppy work
which has to be
redone
after swearing
you would never
work again
with anyone
whose shoulder
you had to be
looking over
to get things
done right
nerve endings raw
as a firing pin
when my friend said
the wrong thing
and the gun
went off
a bullet
entering his body
barely missing his heart
his own fault
part of me
certain I was rational
said immediately
losing ground ignominiously
to regret
for a carelessness
that nearly destroyed
something
that can’t be replaced.
I hurried to
stop the bleeding
and
fortunately
he will heal
but damage was done
and none of us
will forget
what came out
the barrel of the gun.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
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