Last night
I had a dream
that
a kid pulled a Mossberg
out of his black
Jansport.

Pulled it
out by its ears
and flashed
its shining
black pelt in my direction.

He let loose
two
thumping shots.

No pain,
no nothing.

Just a dull, pushing thump in my chest.

Death will come to me one day, and it will be like magic.

I will exist,
and then stop existing.

I woke up this morning crying,
because in the evaporation of a dream
I came out of it
sweating, shaking, hot,
and
knowing death was close.