Sunday, February 21, 2010

Modern Man

He leaned back in his kitchen chair
Until he found the razor's edge
A dance choreographed in millimeters
And for a brief moment
He was transformed...

Thrill seeker

And he found himself
in the open cockpit of a WWI plane,
taking fire...

And then he was twisting the throttle
of a sleek black motorcycle,
coming out of a hairpin turn...

And he was taking a step to the left
as an arrow whistled harmlessly past his ear...

And he was breathlessly willing the dealer
to turn over the ten of spades...

And he was hiding in the brush,
downwind from a pride of lions...

And he was holding a machete high in the air,
pausing briefly before the downswing...

And he was locking eyes
with a mysterious redheaded woman...

And he was releasing a Molotav cocktail...

And he was standing on the edge of a canyon trail,
staring into a deep ravine...

And he was squeezing the trigger
of a large-caliber revolver...

For a split second,
he felt the thing men have always felt
as they taste the salty blood of life...

And then, his morning ritual complete
He leaned forward, slowly and deliberately
Carefully letting the chair legs down to the floor
And he finished his oatmeal
In silence
And tried not to drip any on his necktie

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