To the Enforcer;

To the Enforcer;

Oh, you dirty dog you.
I saw you eye me up on the way in
and don't think I didn't feel
the strings of longing you attached to me
snip
and snap back at you
as I severed them-
shutting with car door scissors.

After the Feeler had left
you showed your true colours
the ones you'd been showing with your eyes
not your touching feel.

I know you sir,
and I've played the game
but that's not to say I didn't have a good time
taking a round with you tonight.

Because Mr. Enforcer
with tease and cute torture
you touched and tried to force me to feel
and you tried to help me discover
what I already know
and seeing I knew you thought you could bust on through
without having a key to the door.

But Mr. Enforcer
as the doors one key holder
I can say you're attempts
were bold and were brave
but as I said to you both
in a letter before
you're confusing the touch
with the gain.

-Matthew Koutzun

Things that Never Die

Things that Never Die

"Honey? Hun," waiting patiently for a response, "Honey?"

No response, just eyes on the road.

"Pull over," she demands

"I'm not pulling over," he says, finally breaking the silence.

"Just pull over."

"I am not pulling over."

"Pull over right now."

He looks out the window to his left, rolling his eyes, catching her reflection catching his. He pulls over- hazard lights blinking.

They sit in silence as she pulls down the clothed sun visor and flips up the mirror, light blinding her face. He watches her as she pulls out a tube of lipstick and carefully applies it to her lips.

"Parties over, put it away." He looks away again, how many times do you put on a face?

"I asked you a question back at the last turn and I expect a response," capping the lipstick and dropping it into her purse. The clasp clicking, he looks at the purse and then at her in non-response.

"I asked you a question," she repeats.

"I know you did."

"So?"

He looks out the window again.

"Stop looking out the fucking window, and answer the god damn question: what the hell do you see in her?"

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, "you're gonna wake Susan up." He checks the rear view mirror to see the kid's asleep.

"I don't care," speaking softer, " what do you see in her?"

Silence, so she starts again, "I don't know when I started to notice, but today it all started to click. The way you watch her."

He had watched her.

"The way you sometimes throw her name out in conversation."

He had mentioned her.

"So why can't you answer my question?"

"Because it's not a question you want answered."

"You pressured us all into going tonight, so the least I deserve is an answer. I look at you gawking at her just like everyone else and it makes me sick. I look around and see them all smiling forward at a little sweetheart and how do you think that makes me feel? You- looking at her like that?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

She looks into the mirror and wipes the lipstick off her teeth.

"How long has that been there?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

"I don't know, whatever... it's pointless now."

"Fuck, I can't take this. I'm sorry Edith I gave her my attention tonight, she's just the star of the show for fucks sake and a friend of mine, so I thought we'd show her a little bit of support. And Jesus, you always have to make these things about you."

"All I asked is do you think I could do that? Do you think if I had continued singing I could be up there? That I could be on that god damn stage."

"What do you want me to say Edith? That yes you could be a star? That yes if you'd have worked harder you could of made it? I'm not going to play these games."

Her reddening face looks out the window before she slowly, with care, pulls out each word, "I sit out there, and I see the lights- the colour, and the sound -the music, and I see the audience -when I look back, and I start to... -inside I wonder why I'm not up there, why I've wasted half my life, and where and what I've done. Where did it go Jerry?"

"I don't know Edith. Ask your daughter in the back seat."

She looks out the window again.

"Just drive me home."

He pulls the shift back into drive as he makes his way down the road again, high beams on. She leans back into the seat, resting her head against the glass , thinking to herself, an audience clapping in the background.

" I could have been. I just could have been."

-Matthew Koutzun


Wow, it's been some time since I've written a short story, so I hope you enjoy.