The Colt .45 automatic
resting on the coffee table
has been broken down,
cleaned, oiled, reassembled.
Beside it lies a fresh clip.
It is a cold, blue, deadly invitation.
And yet, you hesitate to accept.
Outside trees bud, wildflowers bloom,
birds sing and vultures soar.
The breeze whispers: wait awhile,
take a rain check, be patient.
Cowardice or absurd hope?
It doesn't matter, really.
No need to hurry.
The invitation remains open.
- mce
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