Death Dream

In a dream, I asked the shooter to shoot me, shoot me.  He was gunning down everyone else on the street, 

ha- 

ha- 

ha.  

I had to run to keep up with him.  Wait! I called.  Shoot me, over the sound of people falling, Shoot me.  Finally, panting, he turned around and remembered; we had been walking arm in arm a ways back.   He looked upon me kindly from across the street.

Before he could take another step, I closed my eyes to ready myself.  I was at once swathed in the dark and warmth.  Please, I thought, with swelling hope, please.

And in the dark, the first bullet passed into my arm from the side.  

And the second followed shortly after, as silent, as swift.  

My body swallowed the fire.  It swam straight to my heart.  There was an explosion under water from which all turned to liquid lead.  I'm dying.  I relaxed.  Here's death.  

From under my tongue, it gushed.  

[schlieren photography]