Friday Fry-day, Everybody Fall Down
It was a good day for dying, the guy
On the radio said, just before the news
And of course the news was all about
Tonight’s execution; first time in over
Fifty years they’ll be putting a woman
Out of her misery; I will be there to cheer...
Nearing midnight
The idiots outside the prison with their
Signs and candles – pathetic, they are
This is going to happen, make no mistake
I will see her zapped, I cannot wait
Can’t that minute hand move any faster?
Wait – I think I hear them coming – yes,
Eleven Fifty-nine P.M.
They open those silly curtains and there
She sits, staring straight into my eyes, glaring
It takes me aback, I admit it – but hey – she’s
Strapped into the high-voltage chair – harmless
Nothing she can do about it now, is there?
Just before they drop the hood over her head
She mouths three words at me – of course
I can’t really hear her but trust me, I hear her
As if she has spoken – yelled really – into my ear
She says, “I’ll get you” then closes her eyes.
Midnight
Abruptly, I am woozy, feel like upchucking
Not celebrating, the way I was sure I would
And there is something cold on my shoulder
Icy fingers pressing down; I want to leap up
Instead of staying here watching my once
Best friend being electrocuted, put to death
I see her body straining against the chair
Struggling spasmodically inside the restraints
It seems to go on interminably, and I feel
Unwell, with a foreboding; finally she stills
Driving home
My headlights won’t work – they were fine
On the way here but now, nothing but pitch dark
My small car is filled with a sibilance of whispers;
I try to catch what’s being said, even as I try not to listen
A futile exercise admittedly; I have not travelled far
Along the road when a wraith darts across in front
I slam on the brakes, swerve, nearly end in the ditch
Finally come to a stop – the passenger door opens
With weary resignation but no real surprise
I turn to regard my newly dead friend; she looks abysmal.
Her lifeless eyes stare at me; her ruined mouth
Smiles a mirthless shape in my direction —
I cannot seem to look away from her but seeing her
Like this reminds me of what a bad thing I did —
Oh my lord, how trite — bad thing doesn’t really begin
To cover it — killing my own child — blaming my best friend
And then framing her so completely I helped to
Send her to death-row and finally to the chair ...
World without end, amen
I wonder aloud what she plans to do with me, how she
Plans to torture me, then finally put me out of my misery
Terrified, beside myself with thoughts of dying,
I am begging, even as I admit that I deserve no mercy
Partway through my impassioned entreaty,
She holds up an almost skinless hand
The smell of freshly burned skin, charred bone,
And other indefinables is acrid in my car—
When she chortles – her once familiar belly-laugh
Is such a mockery of its former self, I think that,
More than anything is what ultimately undoes me
Or maybe it’s when she lays one cold destroyed finger
On my arm and shakes her head to quell my voice
—and she does, so panicked am I that her skull might
Just fall off, it seems held by the slimmest
Of corporeal threads—but, in a hoarse, raw voice,
The payback she outlines for me, before slithering out
Of my car, leaves me breathless and shaking
Early Morning
I am still sitting just as she left me, when the sun
Deigns to rise, so petrified am I of moving anywhere
In the dark — but I know it is not going to be only
Night-time I have to fear, but all the time,
I ponder, as my shaking hands reach for a cigarette
Whether I imagined the whole thing; it was after all
A very rough night – just as my hand touches the car
Lighter, a much tinier hand lays its cold self on mine
I close my eyes and sigh, despairing, sink back
On the seat, contemplate the past and reluctantly
My future; it seems, as is rumoured with vampires,
I am to live, if not quite forever, a long, long time
And during this long life, everywhere I go,
Without warning, the ghost of my little girl
Or my best friend, or both of them together
Will be there also, keeping me company, judging me,
Driving me crazy — but never, my friend assured me —
Allowing me to take my life — oh no, that was out —
Life was in, and I was to use it wisely, do good things ...
She seemed almost joyful telling me my macabre
Fortune and by the end, I thought I detected
A note of peace creeping into her voice,
And envied her for it before, in a trice, she told me
To just forget it — that those that had gone before
Especially those I had done so poorly by
Knew every thought that crossed my mind
There was to be no peace for me, not now
Not ever, and that she could guarantee
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