Lookout

I want more time inside my head
he said before he placed
the drill bit flush against his eye
And then unscrewed.

It spun there bleeding
for a minute on the drill,
still in his shaking hand,
until he dropped it
in the wake of his red tears.

He’d never see the same again,
but when the shock subsided
and he reached for what he lost,
I restrained him, almost choking
him in doing so.

He sank his teeth into my wrist,
and we both screamed
throughout our struggle
as I kicked the drill
as far as it could go.

We scrambled for it while
his wound just bled and bled,
but he got there first, and held
the power tool as gently as a
mother holds her baby.

I will kill you if you follow me,
he said before he sprinted out
the open garage door
into the dark street,
where he disappeared
like daylight in the distance.

Now I watch sometimes
out the bus window
to the platforms and the
side streets, when I ‘m riding
to get out somewhere,
hoping I will see him
still alive out there.
An eye patch over
some old memory
I should have let slip
through my fingers
when I could have,
if I only hadn’t seen.