Tuesday, February 16, 2016


The Twisting Fight
G. G. Rebimik

The two—they was fightin’, see. 

Yeah, I seen it—seen plenty.

There was a swing, a jab, even a sucker punch—whatever it took.

It went on for a while, past normal understandin’.

You’d know these things if you saw—if you could only see.

They’z wanted the other dead and gone.

Not comin’ around for feed. 

There was a reward in seein’ it, too, but you wouldn’t understand unless you was a street rat--like me—one who don’t care much.

Don’t let Ma be tellin’ you otherwise.

Hear me?

She loved ‘em both, but maybe she don’t really love nobody.  

She produced ‘em—yeah, then set them on each other.

I could be tellin’ all, but remember, street rats don’t know much.

Like if l’d break down and tell ‘bout “The Long Night.”

Was it dark?  

How long?

How dark?

It goes on past thinkin’.  

You can trust a street rat on this one subject.  Others, not so much.

You’d certainly lose faith--more likely just your mind.  

...to be continued 


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