I was sitting at the booth that we gravitated toward
if no one else was there.it was too loud before to notice,
but that shit seeped into my subconscious
started taking tiny shits deep in the folds of my shoulder muscles
had to champ down inside my cheek to keep from grinding my teeth
it wasn’t no premonition, like they want to say it was
it was that goddamn song, “we didn’t start the fire”
we were all fours on that nasty floor
but like when you go out in the dark
from the light,
it takes a minute to adjust the volume too
from 6 dozen conversations
over pancakes at the diner to full on crime scene.
they had a man in back barking orders
up front was auditorily doused
no one eager to be a hero.
but the speakers were still on. and that song.
along with the breathing and the whimpering,
I had a feeling these guys planned this thing,
it was goin allright.
traumatized probably, but for fuck sake,
Everybody should survive an armed robbery.
it doesn’t have to be dead bodies all the time
like the CSI.
Nick Stokes gone wild cat again.
butchest mother Hen on TV
