NICKY

RICKETY STEEL WHEELCHAIR ON THE FRONT PORCH
NICKY SIT HERE FEELING GRAY AS THE STORM
WATCHING THE COLD DUMB WIND
WASHING THE BOLD YOUNG KIDS
OUT OF THEIR HOMES DOWN THE STREET PAST HIS DOOR
NICKY FEELS OLDER THAN GOD AND HE’S JUST 24

SHOT IN THE BACK TRAFFIC SLOWING TO SEE
A KID DRESSED IN ORANGE WITH SHACKLES ON HIS FEET
THE MARSHAL WITH THE RIFLE SAID HE AIMED FOR NICKY’S CALVES
BUT THOSE MARSHALS WITH THEIR RIFLES
HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO STRETCH THE FACTS
NICKY CAN’T RUN ANYMORE AND HE NEVER COULD READ

WAKE IN THE NIGHT IN A FEVERISH SWEAT
THE WHITE STRIPE OF STREETLIGHT ACROSS NICKY’S BED
IS JOINED BY THE RED AND BLUE
OF A CRUISER THAT’S CUTTING THROUGH
OFF TO DO BATTLE WITH THE FAILURE OF THE PROMISED LAND
NICKY DONE LONG AGO RAISED HIS SURRENDER FLAG
FREEDOMS JUST ANOTHER WORD FOR EVERYTHING THAT NICKY NEVER HAD FREEDOMS JUST ANOTHER WORD

spring 97 new orleans
© MYSHKIN 1998