PERSPECTIVE

I’m thinking about
the fact that I wanna do better
but who’s to say that better isn't
what I'm doing now?

I frequently want more from myself
without being thankful for all that
I accomplish
endure
figure out
and
keep myself from doing

I could be telling this story
from a women's correctional facility
for smashing a head
thru a car window
during a wrangle
potentially deadly
for him
I was incensed

He won’t get out of my car
I need him out
our contempt is monstrous
so I let myself go there
let him take me there
make me snap like brittle bones
under pressure of seething
I'll make him get out
open the door for him
then he'll know
I mean business
get the fuck out of my car
where you’re spitting in my face
with all the disrespect your lungs
can hock up
bullet-filled verbal phlegm
you shoot
perforating me with enough holes
to spurt revulsion I only see in movies
not in my own life
get
out

and I accidentally brush
my arm against his chest
reaching for the door
blaze in his eyes
ireful black man
do you see him
losing control?

then he pushes my forearm
with both hands
before the door opens
and growls: “Don’t touch me!”
but since he's burly
and a 5-alarm fire
push feels like martial art
Chuck Norris on my extremity

then I transmute
into something lethal
now I belong in the wild
among beasts who kill to survive
not in my car
with this man
& four inches
separating our bodies
now we're here:
low-grade domestic violence
when all he had to do was get out
after the first request

now I'm ready
in ways I've never imagined
cuz titanic wrath
has gorged all the good in me
now I wanna kill him
with one thrust of his head
thru my passenger-side window

and I can do it
I'm consumed with yearning
adrenaline inebriated

now all bets are off
bets I don’t even know I’m in on
until now

you think you know yourself
your limits
until all your sensibilities
are drowned in odium

and in three seconds
I see my crime
my lunge
at his head
glass erupting
blood spattering
mutual gut-wrenching roars
his death
bedlam on avenue
in front of his father’s home

Wait
think ...
you can’t kill this man
a hundred feet from his father’s door
over heated words
and a push
it won't be self-defense
it'll be self-sabotage
gather your senses
no
the only killing that'll take place
is of my temper
there'll be no bloodshed
blood on my hands
out-for-blood relatives of his
gunning for me
my head
in courtrooms
or worse
in the streets
suppress your fury
see past this moment
and save two lives
you're not a murderer
you’re just mad

“GET … THE FUCK … OUT!”

And finally he's out
and we're both safe
cuz I did better than I wanted to

And there's no next time
I make sure of it

There's no better that you can do
in this world
than to spare a life
when seconds from taking it

In hindsight
I’ve decided that
thus far
I’ve already done my best

Copyright 2012
Charlene E. Green