she kills with kisses

            
       
a man can’t even have a drink in peace anymore, especially in an      
unfriendly bar on a dangerous street. & they’re all dangerous. when      
you go where the wind blows you, you end up in the wrong place at        
the wrong time. I was content drinking my beer & drooling over the        
legs of the blonde on the barstool. she looked at me like I was dirt,      
but I was used to that.      
       
a big guy came over to me, who must have been the official greeter,      
‘cause he asked me who the fck I was. I said ‘who the fck wants to        
know!’ my mouth always acts independent of my brain. he would’ve      
broken me in half if I didn’t react, so I busted my beer bottle on the        
bar & dragged the mean edges across his face, watching the blood        
gush out of his brand new wide gashes. I never heard a grown man        
scream like that. it hurt my ears, so I shoved the bottle into his mouth.
that shut him up quick.      
       
when he dropped, his associates moved toward me, ready to make me    
into small bloody pieces. I ran thru the back room & out the door,    
shoving a barrel in front of it to slow them down. as I ran, I tripped, &    
crawled behind a dumpster. then I heard a female voice down the alley:    
‘hey, d*ck-head!’ that was my middle name, so naturally I said ‘yeah?’ it    
was the leggy blonde. she held a door open, & told me to get in before    
those goons dirtied up her alley with my guts. I hustled quickly into a    
1-room flat. The beat-up furniture had seen better days when Roosevelt  
was president. Teddy, not Frank.      
       
then I looked at her. she wasn’t Lana Turner, but even Lana’s mother        
wouldn’t have seen the difference. she went right into her story. ‘my        
boyfriend, Louie, owns the bar. but I got tired of him slappin me around,    
even tho he doesn’t do it all the time, just on days with a ‘Y’ in them. so I    
broke into his safe & stole his dead presidents, the big fat ones that he    
loves. I got plans, & I will fck up anyone that gets in my way! remember    
that, I am a woman of my word. but now I gotta blow.’      
       
I told her my car was parked down the block. then she kissed me on my  
cool lips, hard. maybe the promise of a future was in that kiss. we ran to  
my car. the old Buick’s engine coughed like it was telling me to fck off.  
after another try, it kicked over. an hour later we were at the train station.  
the Calumet Zephyr  would be leaving soon for the west coast. I parked  
in the deserted lot, fog hanging in the air like stranded ghosts. as I got the  
satchel with the stolen cash out of the  trunk, Lana said, ‘this is as far as you  
go, sweetheart.’ okay, that sounded ominous.      
       
I turned to see the silver plated widow maker in her dainty hand. she      
made the pistol speak its fatal farewell, & I dropped to the wet ground.      
before my ticket outa this candy store was finally punched, she came      
over, knelt down, & kissed my frozen lips. ‘sorry, baby, I travel alone…’      
but she promised to mail my story to my publisher. & she will, too.      
she’s a woman of her word.