We never mastered houseplants.
Above and beyond, but a foot to the left.
A green thumb was never our best asset.
If you didn't shoot, the leaves would be green.
The potted plants thrived on the terrace:
In the house they just repeatedly cried uncle,
Their roots wiggling like an old b-movie.
Do all new killers go blank in the stare?
Gardening was worse than getting an instrument:
Another substandard, low average hobby
Intended to expand the pointless talking points.
Maybe your urge is due to seasonal pollen?
The effort level of the cactus was minimal.
Yet in a humidity it was still kindling to burn.
Should never have made them my central focus.
The hardware store had a shovel clearance.
I have to straighten literally anything out
So I don't pace 'til the hour of judgement!
You think I could pretend I wasn't here and hide?
If you go down, will you bargain for my pardon?
A crystalized lowball glass sways;
Jigging the rocks around the whiskey.
Holding the glass is an aged hand,
Belonging to an aged man
Just threatening to tell a story.
The bar listens with tense ears
And choked breaths.
"She was my first wife;
June, beautiful, bewitching, bodacious;
Too much so at times.
She wore her hair pinned
At the crook of her neck
With a single silver barrette.
It softened her harsh features
Just a little you see.
I came home one day
To discover her on the floor,
With a single silver barrette
Plunged deep in her eye socket.
But nobody knew a damned thing!"
The lowball swayed mores
And the tavern slouches listened on.
"Next there was my second wife,
She was a pious woman,
And her slight figure would pray
Before performing any activity
And i mean any, before the Lord.
She tied the waist of her dress
With a bright green ribbon;
it was so tiny that waist of hers.
Shame I found the ribbon
Around that pretty porcelain neck.
And for some reason,
Everyone thought nothing of it!"
The lowball was empty.
Once the bartender topped it up
The man continued.
"Finally there is my beloved Jessie.
Far too pretty and young
Especially for this old ruffian,
But she would ignite the fire
To warm any man's soul.
Now she's still alive.
But that there stiff
That got my gun going
He's the bastard
Snatched her from me.
And with God as my witness,
She remains my wife,
So she belongs to me."
And with one long final sip,
He left the bar without his gun;
High off of gunpowder and whiskey.
Before the monster could harm me
Great jaws rose from the depths
And swallowed him whole.
I peaked through the gaps in my fingers
But I didn't scream, I wasn't scared,
For the dragon had eaten my predator.
The cheap cotton shirt
Rubbed on his plump neck
As he sat on the edge of the bed
Watching her adjust her cheap polyester bustier.
They’d discussed pricing.
He’d already paid half.
He was nervous,
Didn’t think he could
So she cut him slack.
She pursed her lips
And tugged at his zipper.
When she was bobbing her head
He was positioned staring at the ceiling
Unable to sit.
Before long his face,
Once a grimace,
Glowed from completion.
Slipping out another twenty,
He passed her a tissue and left.