Across from me he stands as tall as a mountain.
All around us the world is still and silent,
Expecting one of us to quickly become violent.
So I allow my words to poor out like the water of a fountain,
“Boy, the rock we stand upon is uncertain,
To what will happen when become pliant
For this never ending moment,
And this moment will simply use us as foundation,
“For other boys to fight upon, this is certain.
So drop your weapon and deal with this new development.”
His resistance to my suggestion was evident,
He taps his fingers over his gun in a slow bunton.
I quickly shrug the idea of begging his pardon
And going away for the moment.
I know there is no shaking my young opponent,
So I nod my head and allow my back to straighten.
“On the count of three,” shouts a maiden,
I wonder briefly what is his expected achievement,
But then fall back into the familiar movement.
And my bullets fall like a curtain.
The outcome isn’t uncertain,
The boy probably wanted it to be different,
But his death will have to be sufficient.
Because now his hopes are forgotten.