brute
she stared me
directly in the eyes
‘you’re not a man, you’re a brute’
a smile crossed my lips
‘i’m no doorknob either, lady’
still staring at me
her lip now curled
‘i’d smack you but i don’t want
to get shit on my palm’
even i must admit
that was a good one
i smiled again
and lit up a marlboro
exhaling the smoke
towards the ceiling
i thought to myself
maybe id get lucky and
this whole place would burn down.
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Max Magenta writes about what he thinks he knows, and is often inspired by heavy metal lyricism, Bukowski, the Shaw Brothers, time travel paradoxes, and strange tales from history (amongst other things). He lives in the Midwest with his partner and sometimes goes outside. You can find some of his other words on BlueSky @realmaxmagenta.
