Gurgling

 

I know you haven’t heard from me in a while.

            And that a son should call his mom from time to time to let her know he’s all right.

            It’s tough doing that when you’re on the run all the time.

            I know you wouldn’t give me away.

            No, I don’t think you’re phone is bugged.

            It’s me, mom.

            I haven’t been right in the head since I killed that guy.

            Sure I was only 17 then, and a lot of people in the old neighborhood figured the bastard had it coming – after all the people he picked on over the years.

            But you’ve got to admit I’ve got a mean temper. So anybody could have told you what would happen when he came to pick on me.

            I can still hear him gurgling where I left him on the street.

            Okay, so the lawyer you talked to said I could have gotten off with manslaughter if I hadn’t run.

            But being from that neighborhood I thought no one was going to believe me when I said I didn’t mean to kill him.

            To tell you the truth, mom, I don’t believe it when I tell myself.

            As you can hear, I’m still one step ahead of the law.

            But I can’t work in any one place too long before someone checks something and figures out I’m not who I say I am.

            Whatever kick I got from killing that jerk I lost somewhere along the road.

            Sometimes I even feel a little guilty about it.

            I thought I had everything licked when I hooked up with some illegal immigrants for work.

            The pay sucked, but they weren’t about to turn me in.

            Yeah, I admit, I started to drink too much.

            Boozed helped me to forget the man and his gurgling for a while.

            But like an idiot, I drove drunk through some rich neighborhood down here, and a cop got onto me.

            I panicked and didn’t stop. So now I’m hot again.

            I don’t know where I’m going next. Maybe Mexico. So you probably won’t hear from me for a while.

            Why Mexico? Because folks down there don’t care what I’ve done as long as I don’t do it again.

            And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to forget the gurgling, too.

 


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