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  • BECAUSE BLOOD STAINS


    We
    stay late
    while making haste
    and humping it in place,
    doing more
    than our best
    at beating the devil
    by wiping up the dark red
    splatter of blood
    flung simply everywhere
    throughout the huge living room,
    trying like hell at removing
    its sticky dry residue

    from
    off of the furniture-the walls,
    even from off the leaves
    of the potted plants
    and
    of course
    the framed family photos.
    we're eliminating the horrid mess,
    the entire swing gang
    scrubbing
    and swearing profanities
    while licking every corner of the place,
    making it clean
    and looking new again,
    especially
    the Berber carpeting
    and
    the French twill sofas,
    and using still more ungodly expressions
    while hoping it'll ease
    some of the stress

    because
    blood stains

    and
    we soon
    have to make tomorrow
    look as though nothing happened
    today.

    Rudy
    towers over us
    way up on a tall ladder
    while cleaning a chandelier
    and says,
    "looks as if the poor guy
    got punched like paper
    right through his skull,
    dead center
    while standing by the sofa.
    nailed by one good shot,
    probably from a high-powered rifle
    from the rooftop across the street."

    Big George
    quickly chimes in,
    saying,
    "the fucker had a damn good eye,
    but then...they sort of have to.
    every year all these killings
    have to get better and better
    and more competitive...
    like fashion!"

    as
    I sweep up
    some broken glass,
    I tell them,
    "seems like death by itself
    just isn't good enough any more.
    everybody wants to kill everyone twice
    these days...
    it's got to have some style,
    some good looks and presentation to it,
    and dare I say some verve and panache."

    on
    ladders
    and on knees,
    on whatever else is available,
    we're kicking ass,
    all the while hoping to get home soon

    because
    blood stains

    and
    payday
    is only a day away.

    it
    takes
    a considerable
    sum of money to dice
    somebody's gray matter,
    even if it's only for a tv show.
    it involves a lot of people
    to pull off a shot with no guarantee
    that it'll ever reach the small screen.

    but
    we're staying late,
    staying with it until
    everything can be done
    to make this place
    look pristine
    again...
    the
    three of us
    working hard and fast,
    RETURNING
    the huge living room
    back to its original splendor,
    its ample gloss and luster
    and
    of course
    its flattering sparkle
    until perfect enough for
    a sanitary ribbon.

    the
    owner
    of the place
    smiles big with glowing teeth,
    4500 bucks ahead from location fees,
    all of it for a quick snuff
    through his French windows,
    coming this summer on Wednesday nights
    over cable tv.

    the
    woman
    of the house
    wildly fires off
    some shots of her own
    with her digital camera,
    capturing
    the Hollywood moment,
    the memory of it,
    as we remove
    the rental furniture,
    the carpeting and the drapes,
    the potted plants and chandelier,
    even the framed family photos
    plus much-much more
    and take them to the 5-ton truck.
    and
    then we have to redress their furniture
    and all of their many personal things
    that we stored on another truck.
    even as we leave,
    she just keeps firing that thing
    while we take off to yet another location

    and
    once there,
    clean it all up
    from yet another murder
    for Wednesday night tv

    all
    because
    blood stains.


    ~~~~~~~~


    (c)2014 Miles Ciletti
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