Target practice.

Whatever you guessed
I guess
you guessed wrong.
that’s the Russian Roulette of life.
Let the chamber dance
and shoot.
Don’t close your eyes,
keep them open
see in a split second
on the face of the woman
across the table
if you blew your brains out in front of her.
She still laughing
I guess it just clicked
going for another drink
the chamber spins.
She shows me the color
of her underwear,
because I made a remark about the interior
and the colorful atmosphere we are talking in.
“Don’t look away”,
she tells me.
Black?
Love black.
Oil keeps things smoothly running,
keeps the gun clean and I can feel the heat on her face.
I rub her
thighs.
Slow and soft
but demanding for more orders to fire.
“There is something I want to wish for.
Give yourself up for me
for one day.
Do
twenty-four hours
really matter?
On a rock in a universe as big as ours?
As ants
in an universe with lengths
we will never see
isn’t done
all that matters;
been
where you have never been?”
But it also
isn’t really worth it,
when there are
no bullets
in the chamber.
The chamber spined for me.
Click, click, click, click, click, click.
And in the morning I barfed
in her porcelain bowl.

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