Elusive rabbits in the sink
Something about staring down the barrel of a Kalashnikov KA 174
really makes you appreciate
the brevity of life, wouldn't you
agree? Then again, our current positions can hardly be considered
equal in any sense
of the word,
seeing as you're the one staring down the barrel, and I'm the one
pointing the Kalashnikov.
I need your help, you see, and the only way
to get anything out of people these days, seems to be
coercion
through superior force – as it applies
to our current case:
I can kill you – you can't kill me.
Or maybe you can.
It's hard to tell these days.
Even the old war-hero
wouldn't talk.
You can imagine my disappointment, as I'd hoped that he might be able
to shed some light
on the secrets of these
infernal rabbits.
He just laughed and told me he'd spent half his life staring
down the barrels
of guns bigger than the one I'm currently
pointing at you. For all I know,
that might be true.
Or maybe it isn't.
It's hard to tell these days
I appreciate you coming here on such
short notice.
As you have probably surmised at this point, everything I told you
about your daughter
being held hostage,
was a lie.
You need not worry.
She is perfectly safe – apart from the fact that she'll probably wonder
where mommy went, once she gets
back from school.
I've been trying for years, you see. Trying and searching and seeking
for some sort of key
to understand the reason behind
the counting of the rabbits in the sink.
They seem to hold some key, some
imparted wisdom, that does nothing but drive people
mad,
because it is so elusive – unattainable.
It is just... "there" in some strange sense of the word.
Or maybe it isn't.
It's hard to tell these days.
Poetry by Lalando
Read 679 times
Written on 2009-11-05 at 02:17
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