Spider Bites

by Chris Deal

It's late and I've poured myself into a stool at the bar and tossed back the Turkey when there's a tap on my shoulder and there's Bernie and I would have thought he'd be mad about the deal but he's smiling and he buys more turkey in celebration but I don't ask what of and keep hitting the glasses while he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out the small paper envelope he carries about and shoves some pills into my hand that he calls Spider Bites and says Take these so I crush them tasting explosive yellow sunbeams between my teeth and Hendrix is fronting a jazz trio backed by Sabbath's rhythm section pounding out a cool hard bop in my head at 23/16 beats and Bernie's holding that gun of his out like a solar flare with the ivory handle and silver etching and both our mouths are moving and one of us calls the other Cocksucker but the voice is laced with razorblades and hangs above the bar like a chemtrail and in that instant I hear the click of the high-tension trigger and I see my matter over the crowd behind me like a mist in the mirror behind the tender and I'm hoping this beat is eternity but it slows down in three four time to a long dull hum and it feels like there's a fade to white there at the end.