I'm sitting with Hem at the beach
He's sipping a whiskey and water
And I'm delivering a speech
To his British friends and a girl I don't know
He asks if I'm all right
And I say sure why
And he says I don't know, your skin
Looks too tight for your face
And I'm sure the whiskey
Has hit him hard
But I keep giving my speech
And he just stares at me
Sipping and looking
At the waves come in
I'm talking about writing
About his writing and how good it is
Even though i know he hates it when
People praise him to his face...
Then it happens
I look at one of the Brits and
Then back at him
And I realize, he is
Marked for death.
I stop talking and we sit
For a while listening to the ocean
And then he leaves with His friends.
I order a glass of water then take out
My notebook and write until the
Sun flattens out on the sea
No comments:
Post a Comment