MOST OF THE TIME, I TOO
stood facing the world
with my hands up.
I was thirsty, I was hungry,
it was cold or hot outside,
I continued to stand.
My eyes were clinging to the gun,
a comical thing, such a sweetie,
though lethal and aimed at me too.
Sometimes the entire world
looks like a ridiculously short person,
with a crooked nose, its brain completely scrambled
but armed and ruthless and completely
inconsiderate of me and the likes of me,
and rather unpredictable.
Here and there, not to give a damn
I would light a cigarette
with one hand –
It got angry, squinted at me
pursed its lips tightly
but did not shoot