Arron Shiver

Issue #
April 26, 2020

My Hero

Sam died.

And the horses ran.

And the white sky

met with the white hills

and the horses ran

and Sam is dead.

He said Hollywood

was for teenage idiots

and when he died

we drank Patrón

and read his lines

round the butcher block

in a house that Hollywood built

and sold and bought again,

idiocy feasting on itself;

read his magic


to each other -

Men way out in the deserts,

alone save for the faces of their fathers.

Rock-n-roll girls,

their sanguine smiles,

their haughty tantrums,

a map to the precipice

carved in the grooves of their

gunmetal teeth.

I said everything I remembered:

how he spent time in Taos,

how at Joe’s he used to come

and sit with his fishing buddies,

talking quietly of horses.

How he took my friends

upstairs and fucked them.

How one time after a dance

he pulled Loretta onto his lap

and when she tried to squirm away

he held her there,

his skinny arms wrapped around her middle,

how Carlos came up

and said he would kill him.

How outside, Sam pulled the crazy routine,

yelling and flailing his arms.

“I’ll rip out your eyes and piss in your eye holes!”

“I’ll tear off your head and shit down your neck!”Carlos laughed

and then they laughed together.

How at a party Gen suggested

we all do Fool for Love together,

and he could play the old man.

“But I’m not the old man, darlin’.

I can’t be.

It’s not possible.

It’s beyond the realm of possibility.

”Tony piped up

he thought it was a good idea.

Sam said: “You know, I admired your father, but

you are a fucking idiot”

The boy prince of St. Cleran’s

said nothing.

Shame. I would have liked

to have seen that fight.

I told them how

he found out I acted and stumbling to

another bar, gave me this advice:

“don’t audition”

Meanwhile, I trussed myself to plaudits,

to love relationships, sacrifice,

crossed many deserts,

faces and faces going back

to the end of them

and at the end of them

Sam died.

There is no previous item
Go back to Top Menu
There is no next item
Go back to Top Menu
A Journal of International Poetry
All content is the property of the individual authors and artists

Site designed by SpicerDigital - Dixon, New Mexico