Friendship Hashshashin

"How the FUCK

can you NOT love Jazz, Julio?"

said while pulling a drag

in walked this sucia rubia beauty

though the type never

letting sentence frac-

to interrupt in midst of statement

makes me forget what

was worth framing[argument]

'stead now arranging,

in lamens terms

she had this fragrant

scent- I believe vanilla

and oh, jasmine

hints of probably lavender.

A Colorado claro,

Parejo Montecristo passed

between us both, ash befalling

the tip leaves smoke

she sips Amaretto,

rivets dagger-stares

through our throats.

"DIBS" utters him

"Fuck..."

under my tongue

Code says 'back off',

yet I insist.

"Play you a hand for her...

Spades, 5-stud or blackwater?"

He chooses my least palpable: Whist

(It's just a simple form of Bridge)

somehow I luck out,

although I win-

she falcons

fixed stares

in the direction of him.

She was the perfect

murderer

left ill-fitting glove at the

blood scene

I'm preparing verdict

as she resurfaces

conducting words,

she approaches us-

flesh tower of Babel

the tip of Bermudan Triangle

preparing to stifle

she intersects this path

of tobacco hash which hangs

between myself

and Julio.

Surrendering claim

I dispell chatell slavery

not to disrupt harmony

I'd let him lay her,

he never got much

back in the day, you see-

high school was the land

milk and honey for some

I enough- but him

never one trip

to the muff.

So here, in this paisley

black/grey tie.

I stand, restless circulation of thoughts

there he lies

rosary in hand...

Little did we know, Rubia carried

a Three-Letter secret

much deeper

than either J or I could see.

He unpeeled protection, she

wreckless ingestion

and noone saw

the HIV hatchet

until it meticulously hacked

him to scraps,

he took the sundering stab

and to think-

'PHEW'

because that

could have been

Me.

(c)Paul LaTorre 2010