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Volume II – [Purple Baby] Guilt
woke up this morning
dry-heaved until
a blood vessel
under my eye
broke
didn’t go to work
didn’t go back to bed
didn’t even write
just sat alone
and wished
I hadn’t gone out
with The Judge
last night
we
tried
to drink away
The Judge’s memories
for him
for he
never could
and now I
never can
he’s been dealing with
some shit lately, it was
triggered at a bar
in downtown L.A.
he walked in
on five-kill minimum night.
guys friendly with death, telling stories.
Most of them had served.
"How ‘bout you," the bartender asked.
"i dropped Napalm in Nam."
The bar went silent, except the bartender,
he said, "That counts as six," and poured
another double scotch – rocks
on the house.
It’s a fucked up thing
these guys like John.
They were jet pilots
in the Air Force,
Captains, elite
members of the military.
I say they were
because they’re dying.
The Judge is old
and not yet fifty
Napalm is all about
the side effects,
but the one they leave out
most often
is guilt.
Years passing hasn’t helped
and now booze, the only
thing that makes him
feel better,
is killing him
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