He pulled a gun
On me
Stuck it in my ribs
Like I was steak
Well-done
On the wrong plate
At a place and time
When flour was scarce;
That was my first brush
With fate and destiny

I was just a boy
Then
Of nineteen
When
It happened

Six years later
It happened again
A scare
My sophomore year
At Skegee
He waved the gun at me
This time
Screaming obscenities
From Clarendon

I did not run
Like my friends from Soweto
Where guns meant death

I had no fear
That day
Miles and miles away from home
I stood my ground
And won;
My second brush
With fate and destiny

My third
Occurred in a smoky bar
Not far away
From Carver's farm;
He was nuts
That night
Almost blew a hole
Through my guts
When all I wanted
Was a Bud Light
Ice-cold;
My third brush
With fate and destiny

Time has been kind to me
Unlike the lady
From Stone Mountain
In the backseat of my rideshare;
"I'm gonna **** you,"
She said;
The cop searched her bag
There was no gun
This time around;
My fourth brush
With fate and destiny

A mere man of 56
I was
No longer an immigrant boy
Was I
When his Luger's laser
Pierced my eye;
Yet here I am
Alive
Having survived
My fifth brush
With fate and destiny

Maybe I should buy a gun
Of my own

AYO

~ p