The reaper...

July new poetry forty-four...

The reaper...

I have played hide and see with the reaper and the f*****g reaper found me in Downtown Austin, Texas. She was a pretty gal with a voice of gold. She told me. Johnnie, Johnnie trying to duck death in the west again. You believe your sage burning and your crystals can keep me away. The truth is. You are not ready to die yet. You haven't sin enough, you haven't drank enough whiskey yet and your hell-bound journey had just began. I like your black soul. Please allow me to buy you a Irish whiskey and I will tell you a blood story of a brave woman who believed in kindness of men. She died for them and they left her in a shallow grave. No-one knew her name and she became forgotten. This pissed me off.

I sang a song to you in Santa Cruz once and we danced in a Belton, Texas dance hall a long time ago. In Santa Cruz, you saved your friend and can you save yourself?  And today I like you more.

We touched the glasses of the Irish whiskey and I asked him. Why do we live? She smiled and she told me. You are here for one reason, maybe many? Maybe you must save yourself? Maybe you save some children? Maybe you are damn, like me.

Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.