High Noon
I can see through you.
I can’t see you at all.
We stand, arm’s akimbo, legs askance. We stand strong, like John Wayne.
I must confess, I feel more Lee Marvin myself.
This will not be it. It will not be our last stand.
We play at pulling pistols, may even take the safety off.
But I will not, we will not make that perfect round hole in another chest.
We will not look down to see blood clotting, congealing, staining our shirts.
I will not touch it with trembling fingers, will not smell blood, will not have blood on my hands.
Another day, maybe, but not today.
AB
