I TOLD YOU HOW IT WOULD GO

by R.B. Morgan

A little tough guy
With a bandana
Wrapped around
His head.
I like little
Tough guys..
I was one myself.
It makes me happy,
Yes, I think happy
Is right,
When a little tough guy
Is bloody flat on his
Little tough guy
Back,
Staring up scared
At a one-legged old fuck,
And his pals want
To buy in,
But they're usually
Big tough guys,
And so I take one,
Or two, by then
I'm all cashed in.
Let the old bastard
Go. Shit, it was one lucky
Punch, while a girl
On the side starts
Dialing the Cops.
Someone always
Fucks the party up.
Then I go back
Where they won't
Let me in. I look exactly
Like what I am. For very
Good reasons,
That bothers them.
Home with my head
Beaten and stoned,
Spilling wine on the cat
Who bails out the window.
It's the third night like
This, my second fight,
Both eyes swollen.
Pain's an old friend.
We've been together
Longer than you've been
Alive. And look,
I've got money,
For, it's hard to say.
I'll scrounge some later.
That's where women
Are handy.
They like it when I lie to them.
It's so odd and romantic.
Here's a try for heroic:
I don't have to live
Like some street
Addict asshole.
I do what I do
And the world
Can fuck off.
Some of them buy
It. Most of them don't.
I generally do.
A lie is always the best
Part of the truth.
Just easier to swallow
When you're locked-on loaded,
Decking some small-time
Tough guy,
A right wrapped tight
Around that old
Roll of quarters.
Take that,
Sucker.
Wait.
Wait.
Here's one for the road.