night of september fourteenth two thousand and seven
by cor

black sweater bought from walmart with cash 
and the hood over my head with a hunting knife in the stomach pocket 
im walking down the street 
head down 
and its dark 
look at the mailboxes 
24 28 34 
numbers that make no sense make me laugh
and i feel my heart drum 
the street is empty 
but up ahead i see a girl coming my way 
with a backpack on her back 
thick dreads swinging on her head 
and she sings something rolling stones from her headphones 
time is on my side time is on my side 
and she passes me by 
and i dont look at her face 
but i know shes got a few zits and big white post-braces teeth and 
brown eyes brown brown eyes

i love women with brown eyes 
it is sexy 
and i almost get an erection 
thinking about her tits 
and raping her right there in the street on the sidewalk 
but instead i look around 
no one is watching 
and take out my knife from the kangaroo pocket on my sweater 
and my shoes make a soft crunch on the dirt from street cleaning 
and i reach up and my fingers dig into her knots like a lie 
and she lets out a soft yell of confusion what is going on 
that moment where you dont think youre going to die 
and i put the knife against her neck 
and i make a nice clean sharp cut where she doesn't make much sound after that 
just theres some bubbling as the pipes get rearranged 
and with my left foot and my hand released i kick her to the sidewalk 
and step around her 
and check my shoes for blood 
and head back home

i enter my house 
pull off the sweater
take out the hunting knife
wrap it all in a plastic bag from under the sink
put it in the freezer for now
i will deposit it in the neighbors trash later on when i get a chance
then i take off my shoes
remove the duct tape from the soles
put them by the entryway
sit down
turn on the tv
fall asleep with my heart pumping in my chest 
this is ejaculation

they never caught the killer of amy doone
seventeen years old 
walking home late one night after working in the art room on a project from school 
the art teacher says in the paper that its his fault 
he let her stay so long to work on her clay model of a lizard 
he blames himself but thats silly 
he didnt kill amy doone
i did