Embracing the Suck: A Machine Gunner's Story1. ![]() I stroke the rounds like beautiful pelts and wait for night. The bullets— let each find its mark—I name all the same: Ali Baba, Ali Baba, Ali Baba, moving my lips and caressing the chamber, each bullet a rosary bead. ![]() 2. ![]() The repetition is persistent, the song stuck in my head, ![]() You better back the fuck up Before you get smacked the fuck up* ![]() it calms me, replaces fear of death the way Saddam, Saddam, Saddam ![]() can sound like a lullaby. When speaking aloud I say Ali Baba, ![]() to myself I mouth mutha-fucka. ![]() 3. ![]() Some days it's too much, the beauty glinting off my ammo belts, the heat visible in the twirl of distant dust. It could all be a dream, picking its way through the numb, so different from the weight of my pack, the only certainty death. I want to walk with arms spread past the barrier and search for Little Father, acoustic guitar playing in my head. Perhaps they'll kill me quick and soft. ![]() * from Tupac's "Hit'em Up" |
|
||||
Copyright © 1999 – 2024 Juked |
![]() |