Thunder Sandwich
#17

Poetry
1 poem by Ace Cabbage

dweeb by jeff filipski
dweeb by jeff filipski

Don't Nobody Innocent Die

The Neighborhood was bombed out littered
weedy lots and the remnants of firebombed hovels.
This was built to be ghetto: these houses weren't
built to last. Now the only vitality is dope...
Dope and its satellites like liquor stores
and hookers and hot property and guns.
And I never should have been there. Never.
But if I couldn't get my lunch, dinner, and dessert
at my normal spot, I'd find myself here- cause I knew
folks from being a cabdriver. In this ghetto this
pre-fab pre-formulated ghetto.
Nothing good ever happens here. Evra-thing's Nothing.
But that last time... Tied up my affairs
and was talkin to Omar sayin goodbye outside
facing the liquor store on the corner. Maybe I
even remarked when the dirty maroon Mercury
out of nowhere pulled to the curb across the side street
from the store. Pulled up quick and a man in
a black-brimmed hat quickly got out... and
with purpose he strides across the street- the weight
of brown loafers swinging lanky legs... through
trash and dead leaves... The
air got all thick and slow and compressed.
...he withdrew a pistol. I hadn't
even noticed the hustler-girl on the
phone on the side of the store... only four
of us on the whole street... four who had
just flipped into an alternate lead-dense dimension.
together. Almost before that man threw the gun to the
end of his reach like a knockout punch... I'm
hearing the sadly familiar dull soul-clap
of the black 9mm- pop pop pop with a thud
on top of each pop. And hearing it's way
different than seeing... the impact of a car-crash
confined,
in a very tiny area... the fresh, soupy blood
on the peeling-paint cinderblock wall... and the wall
says LOTTO! with hot thick brilliant blood on and
between the faded letters.
And Omar told me in the ozone airy silence,
Didn't nobody innocent get killed here. Ever.
And it suited my coward ass to believe that long
enough to leave before my carriage turned into
a pumpkin. And don't think that
I don't think about it, because I think
that chick probably hollered, Hey baby
hey baby into my carelessly open window
some night in that hot, hot neighborhood.

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ISSN: 1534-4037