deepundergroundpoetry.com

gun for hire

I�ll go anywhere & do anything if the price is right. and sometimes it don�t
have to be right. like with my new client.
it�s an old story: he just wanted his wife back. he talked about how beautiful
she was, how he couldn�t live without her. then he cried like a baby. maybe
that�s what hammered it home.

a commitment is supposed to mean something, especially when love is
involved. I never had anything like that, maybe that�s why I respected it.

the old Chevy, beat up as it was, got me to the address I was given. a man & a
woman came out of the old house. in the street light, I could make out her red hair.
and that face. Rita�the face that haunted me thru long nights in a whiskey haze.

yeah, we had a history. short & miserable. sure, I slapped her a couple times. and
she slapped me back. hard�one day she was gone, just gone. I didn�t bother to look
for her, we were both better off. I knew that.

she had a husband who could give her the sweet things in life, but here she was with
a bum in a dirty t-shirt & ripped dungarees. things never make sense in my world.
�don�t say nothing, Roy. I ain�t goin back!� I wasn�t buying her argument. �you signed
a contract, lady. you signed your name on a guy�s heart.�

the bum wasn�t the patient type. he shot at me before I could react. I felt a burning in
my side, but I raised my rod & fired back, never expecting Rita�s next move. she stepped
in front of the bum. the bullet caught her solid. she dropped like a used hanky. we
watched her broken beauty dissolving in a bloody puddle.

he & I looked at each other & started firing madly. I kept on firing until all I heard was
stupid empty clicking. then I surveyed the carnage. they both just lay there, fucked-up dead. now I saw three bloody trails streaming out of my body. I slumped to my knees,
felt the life rushing out of me like yesterday�s bullet-holed dreams, heard the siren of the meat-wagon coming for us�

I never read Shakespeare, but somebody told me about Hamlet once, how everybody died
at the end. so maybe my life doesn�t just fade to black.
maybe it becomes a cheap paperback�

Written by JohnFeddeler

Published 8th May 2013

All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.

likes 8 reading list entries 2

comments 4 reads 1187

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Re: gun for hire

BlackVelvetRose (Ragdoll Raven)

8th May 2013 7:33am

mmmmm this is like a dime store romance novel to me... always loved to read those. Much enjoyed this baby and i love the pic you showcase with it as well....

Read poems by BlackVelvetRose

Re: gun for hire

Quill-in-Heart (Tony Pena)

9th May 2013 6:26pm

Awesome, John. Really digging the "PULP POETRY."

�you signed a contract, lady. you signed your name on a guy�s heart.� is such a cool hard boiled line and "broken beauty dissolving in a bloody puddle." a terrific image. Very nice!