Jinxed By Reading 'Papillon'

The lighting caught
his left arm perfectly
to show the weathered scars
I'd never expect to see there.
Another righty
but one who lacked ambition.
Down the road, not across the street.
I suppose I should be grateful.
Dead men tell no tales.

But I shoot looks at my wrist
when there's no watch upon it
and I've been glancing at the wall
where the clock stopped last week.
There's a dog in that car
with the windows closed tightly
and a dancer of sorts
has taken a liking
to a man who's had his shelves and safe emptied
by clowns with dull badges
and no sense of humor.

There are tramps and trollops
mice and mere men
none of whom can explain what to do
with this drawer full of cardigans
and bobby pins left like landmines.

A man on a megaphone
is screaming nothing
but saying it well
while girls in stirrups
claim their own fates.

You take the north side.
I'll watch the south.
Friends save judgment
for after the barrage.
Never again
will I turn myself in
on my kid brother's birthday.
My laughter has limits.