The Door at the End of the Hall

I walk toward the door
at the end of the hall
behind which
all of the trouble starts

I watch my hand
reach toward the knob
I can hear
the muffled voices of a crowd

I stand
in the noise of an empty room
The window shatters
at the touch of my fist

The cold wind
touches my face
as I step
onto the ledge

The wolves at my feet
are aroused
by the smell of my fear
and the taste of my blood


He would jab
his fingertips
with a pin
He said liked
to feel the sting
and taste
the blood

Once his hand
was good
and bloody
he would
make a hand print
in a notebook he kept
He’d write down
the date
and the time
He called it
his journal

In the end
he was face down
on the table
with his hand
on the
very last page
His life story

Playing Baseball

Playing baseball
in the vacant lot
I’m at second base
hoping the ball
won’t come to me

You ran me over
as I tried to tag you

Your father watching
through the kitchen window
smoking a filterless Camel
nursing a Schlitz malt liquor

I never saw him move so fast

He plowed straight into you
knocking you to the ground

You curled yourself
into a ball
to protect your face

How do you like it big man?

The whole neighborhood
seemed to go quiet
the thud of his fists
the only sound

When it was over
you dusted yourself off
Trying not to cry
Trying to pretend
that nothing happened
Trying to pretend
that it was a normal day

And it was

The Best She’s Ever Had

They never look
like the photographs
a little older
a little more beat up

Her eyes
give it away
Of course
you’re the best
I’ve ever had
Of course
you’re the biggest
I’ve ever seen

Money on the dresser
she’s in the shower
trying to
wash away the stink
and get ready
for another call

Of course
you’re the best
I’ve ever had