Death of a Chiefs Fan
by softserve

Bam! Blood vessel pops like

gunshot, leaves me

lifeless

in this alley and Sarah and

Alisha–on break–find me in

jeans

and jersey, lying warm but

lifeless among sparrow-chirps in

cool morning light. Fading to

blue sky, I watch the brown

tops of their

heads scatter like fleas, drop their

cigarettes, flee inside…all alone

a sprawling corpse in Chiefs

red, forearms burning from

UV rays, it waits–me, my flimsy dead

vessel–for mom and wife and daughter

to carry off, still youthful—still might

smile any moment, needing hair

trimmed before a wake.