work in progress pt 2

work in progress pt 2

A Poem by dead poet 79

I got back to Portland,
Raining as hell,
As usual.
My apartment was in disarray.
Looked as if someone
Had robbed me, but,
Nothing was missing.
My answering machine was full.
Calls from my parents, friends, employer.
I began with calling my parents,
To find out what had occured up
To the time of my disappearance.
We talked for awhile,
My mom crying the whole time,
So my dad had to get on the phone.
He told me of the little informantion
That they had gathered while I was missing.
I had went out to a sports bar with
Some of my friends,
Met up with a woman,
Then left without telling my friends
That I was with,
Or even paying my tab.
I hung up and called the friends that
My dad had given me numbers for.
The first few where dead ends.
Then, I called one, that
My memory could not place.
He said that he wouldnt talk on the phone,
But, to meet him at a coffee shop
The next morning.
I went to the coffee shop,
But, not remembering my friend,
I just stood by the door.
A man came up to me
And shuffled me to a table
Quickly.
"What are you doing here?
Dont you remember the deal?"
My memory was blank,
What was this man talking about?
"What deal? What are you talking about?"
He looked around,
As to see if anyone was listening in
On our conversation.
Then, he leaned in real close
Almost whispering.
"The night we where at the bar,
We played a game of pool with
These guys. They where husslers.
We got in real deep. REAL DEEP.
Got down to about a grand."
I was getting worried at this point.
Only if I was drunk would I
Play pool for money.
My game was not that good.
Could barely hit one straight in.
"The guys wanted there money,
And when we told them we couldnt
Produce, they said they where gonna take
One as collateral, until the debt was paid.
They chose you, and I tried to stop them
And they broke my finger"
He held up his left hand
And had a sling on his pinky finger.
"I went back to the party and
Told them that you had hooked up
With a woman and left.
I didnt tell the cops anything
Cause, I was worried about my life."
He was shaking at this point.
So I suggested that we go some
Place more discreet.
But, he was not having it.
And, left abruptly.

© 2009 dead poet 79


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Added on January 28, 2009

Author

dead poet 79
dead poet 79

Knoxville, by way of Chattanooga, TN, TN



About
I'm 29, have been writing for over a decade now. Inspirations, Charles Bukowski, Edgar Allan Poe, Slyvia Plath, Music, and everyday people on the bus. more..

Writing