He lifts his shirt and pulls his gun out of his waistband and points it at my temple.
THE STREET IS SILENT
So am I.
HE PUSHES THE NOSE OF THE GUN INTO MY SKIN SO I FEEL IT
“I’m waiting…” he says.
I LOOSEN MY JAW, CAREFUL TO KEEP THE NECKLACE IN PLACE
“Tweet, tweet,” I make a bird sound through my closed lips.
HE LEANS DOWN TO MY FACE
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“Tweet, tweet…” I repeat it.
DON’T LOOK AT THE FUCKING GROUND, LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU
I lift my eyes.
REPEAT WHAT YOU JUST SAID TO ME, YOU OLD FAGGOT
“Tweet, tweet…” I sing again.
YOU BITCH ASS BITCH
“Tweet, tweet…” I chirp through my lips.
YOU THINK YOU BEING FUNNY, YOU LITTLE FUCK
I’m singing for him.
Tweet, tweet.
Tweet, tweet
Goes my song—
WHEN HE
Pulls the trigger.
THE LAST SOUND FROM MY MOUTH
Is a squashed tomato.
The bullet races through my mind and spits out my thoughts onto the sidewalk.
I’M CROUCHING WITH MY SKULL PUNCTURED
Blood leaking from my ear. I listen to it. It sounds just like the sea.
I COLLAPSE INTO IT
The kid looks at me. He lifts his free hand and wipes some of my blood sprayed on his cheek. He looks at it on his fingertips.
“Fuck,” he says to himself.
He wipes the blood on his shorts.
“Fuck me that was awesome…!” he yells out into the night.
THE KID HOOTS WITH HIS CHEST FULL
Waving his gun into the moonlight.
HIS VOICE PULLS FARTHER AND FARTHER
He’s moving away as he’s cheering to himself.
THE WHOLE WORLD IS A PIECE OF PAPER BEING TORN IN HALF
“Fuuuucckkkkkkkkk thaaaatttttt wasssssss aweeeesssommmmmeeeee…”
I AM VASKA
THERE IS A BOY WHO IS NOW A MAN
Sniff, sniff. He’s lying on the sidewalk on Teutonia Avenue.
GET UP, MAN-BOY-FLOP
I nudge my nose at his fallen knees.
GET UP, GET UP
I plow my nose into his slumpy shoulder.
ARF ARF ARF
I say to him.
ARF ARF ARF
I say to the street.
ARF ARF ARF
I say to Mother Nature.
WHAT’S ALL THE NOISE?
Mother Nature says with a shifting in the blades of grass.
I AM VASKA
And this is a boy who is now a man, you remember.
NICKY, NICKY, NIKOLAI
She says, shaking her leaves. The wind loops under my belly.
ARE YOU ANGRY WITH HIM, MOTHER, SINCE YOU HAVE LET HIM BE FLOPPED?
I ask her.
VASKA, THIS IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, GO ON, SHOO
She says with the moon.
“You’re one nosey dog, aren’t you?”
The moon glow shines on the white hairs of my fur.
PLEASE, HELP HIM UP
I say to her, even though I know it is not my place. I’m just a dog. A dog who goes on living. When all kinds of non-dogs die again and again. Sniff, sniff.
ARE YOU ASKING FOR A FAVOR?
She says with the moisture in the air. There is a dewdrop forming on my nose.
Arf, arf, arf.
OH, VASKA YOU OLD DOG, YOU GET TOO ATTACHED
She says with a line of ants crawling past my paws.
I BOW MY NOSE AT HIS LIMPY HAND
I start licking his palm.
ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT
She says with three salt stars in the black sky.
I LET MY TONGUE HANG OUT AS I BREATHE
I watch his crooked body in full flop on the sidewalk. I breathe the way I want him to breathe with me.
FOOTSTEPS LIKE MY BREATH
Like my breath, like my breath, like my breath, the woman is walking.
I TURN MY NOSE TO HER AND MY TAIL WAGS
Hiya, Ma’am, Hiya, Hiya.
SHE RUNS HER FINGERS THROUGH THE FUR BETWEEN MY EARS
I close my eyes it feels so good, Oh thank you, thank you, ma’am.
GOOD BOY, VASKA, GOOD BOY
I follow how her lips move. My eyes feel dark and light at the same time.
SHE LEANS DOWN TO HIM
Nicky, Nicky, Nikolai…
GOOD BOY
I kneel down and put my head on my paws.
HIS EYES OPEN
Hiya, friend.
VASKA?
He wheezes.
HIYA, HIYA, IT’S ME
“Oh, Vaska, oh, Vaska.”
He’s a little boy.
He’s a scared boy.
He’s a bad boy.
I’m a good boy.
THE WOMAN HELPS HIM SIT UP
She puts his head on her shoulder. His head leaks onto the soft pink fur she’s wearing.
She opens his mouth with one hand then puts her fingers inside.
“Well, well, well,” she says to herself.
She smudges her fingers inside his mouth.
His eyes grow big.
“Ouch,” he says slowly.
She pulls out a gold necklace.
“Good boy,” she tells him.
PLEASE, MAKE IT SO IT DOESN’T HURT MY FRIEND
I say to the ma’am.
DON’T WORRY, VASKA, YOU OLD BOY
I’m a good, old boy.
GET HIM OUT OF HERE
Mother Nature says with a cricket’s chirp.
COME ON, THE MA’AM SAYS
She puts her hand into a brown-hide bag. It has a light thread going in and out at the edges. She reaches inside. She pulls out the thing and unfolds it. She taps inside to make a dome. She puts it on my friend’s head.
It covers up the spots that hurt.
She lifts him up and flops his arm over her shoulder. She starts walking and he’s stumbling along with her. Sometimes his feet drag and sometimes he uses them. I follow behind.
NORMALLY DOGS AREN’T ALLOWED INSIDE
But the ma’am says, Come on, Vaska, to me. I sit at his feet. I like it there.
My friend gets plates of food. He eats everything. It smells greasy, sugary, pickled, salted, cream-filled, citrusy, heavy, prickly, mushy.
He throws down pieces to me and I eat them up, Yum, thank you, thank you, friend!
The ma’am brings him something else. She opens it in his palm. Solid. Dark.
It smells like non-food.
She opens it, so there is a top and a bottom.
“Here,” she says.
He stares inside of it.
“You love numbers, don’t you?” she says.
He nods.
“Go on, press the numbers you love.”
He lifts his finger and pushes inside the thing. It makes a beep. He lifts and brings it back down. Another beep. Then another. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
He puts it to his ear. His breath is long and
