And him, the other one,
I never meant to hurt him.
The game was nice and slick
But fake, of course, so I thought
Nothing could matter. As long
As we side-stepped grainy plaster
On stairs and knocked past all
Those broken bottles, cans,
And general paper trash
In the hot alleyways
We'd be all right. Our guns were
Honest-to-God imitations
Of the real thing. Harmless.
But in the dark we got mixed up,
All of us. One, I think,
Changed sides and didn't tell.
Then matchlight glowed suddenly
Under a tight face, cold.
So I yelled out, "Double Crosser,"
Lit out for the back fence, felt
Myself impaled. But wasn't.
Really frightened, I wheeled,
Flinging my arms out hard,
And struck. He fell apart.
And the game was over.