11:05 to Chicago

Inspired by the work of Richard Bosman

On a white train,

five minutes from departure,

I gave up my killing addiction

and dropped my .38 Special

into the dirt below, it fell

as if into another dimension,

losing it's 3D nature as it

collapsed into the greenish-black

grass below,

A downward brushstroke of luck,

lined by regret and unseen to the

other shadowed passenger windows,

though defenseless and headed

to my least-favorite drug-lord-owned

city,

I found myself on the ground

laughing and counting the dots

on the tiles, each one a second closer

to my impending approach,

the bossman smiling,

my own death reflected in the

blue-gray sky following me,

all the way to Chicago.