Relationships of Static Confusion
He wanders cobblestone trails,
glances into alleys before passing,
certain the enemy still tracks him.
It would have been easier had they killed me,
he told me, in a rare lucid moment.
I think back to eighteen,
his class ring slung
round my neck,
Over the edge and fed up,
I bludgeoned him with my boots--
the same ones that walked me
then sat glass-encased
with the scent of weed and crushed daisies, his
screams now embedded
with Hendrix howls
into my shrine.