Want to See a Real Man?

I read today how a man barricaded himself
in a trailer with his girlfriend,
and before he blew her away and himself too,
he yelled to the cops,
"Do you want to see a real man?"

You don't like Joey’s, the booths are duct-taped
and cramped. You like Capo’s, cozy and romantic,
but I like Joey’s jukebox; two plays for a quarter
and no CDs, just oldies with scratches
grooving with memories.

Two quarters slide in but a couple behind us
arc like crossed wires. High tension connection
says he can't wait to get her home
to mess her up but good.
Your eyes cloud when I turn and say:
"Must make you feel like a real man."

His eyes are embers under the rim
of a dirty, black cowboy hat
perched on his head like a crow.
Her eyes are disconnected, like a broken TV.
“You want to see a real man?”
His tongue snakes into the burrow of his mouth.
A real man steps into darkness to the blast
of a passing train.

"He's a psycho, pendejo,"
Joey says, "You better go, pronto."
"Vamos," but it's too late,
the psycho's back.

The long cool barrel of a .45
cold and heavy.
twisting on my temple like the devil's finger,
my heart clangs like the church bell
and from the jukebox, Elvis sings
"Are You Lonesome Tonight?"

Our eyes lock and load,
his breath is short and ragged
like a dog hit by a car. He whispers,
"You want to see a real man, cabron?"

She begs him please don't,
and time crawls like the sun.
He pulls the hammer down
and a real man slides back
into his holster.

He drags her outside into Joey's parking lot
and her screams crash through an open window.
But before I can stand, you push me
back down again,
amazed I'd even think of repeating,
"Must make you feel like a real man."

I walk to the jukebox,
and fumble for a quarter
to drown out her sound.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...