letra de victim - the golden palominos
i feel the motion of the car before i open my eyes
the air is blue-black, brown-black, black-black
smell of gas, oil, animals
i’m in the trunk
my wrists and ankles tied
tape over my mouth
it almost covers my nose
but i can breathe barely
i must have been here for hours
everything’s stiff and my head throbs
like someone’s drumming on china
the car stops
he turns off the motor — but there are no traffic sounds
no people sounds. no wind. what place has no wind?
i turn my head towards the sounds
like people watch radios when something terrible happens
my palms are sweating. where am i?
the trunk squeaks as he lifts it up and the sun blinds me
he almost looks like a faceless jesus surrounded by light
he pulls me out of the trunk and bangs my head against the door
i try to cry out, but it comes like a hum
he drags me, half-standing, along a dirt road into a house
i can’t see any other houses and it looks like a farm
the screen door bangs behind me and i feel a deep, deep pressure inside
all the rules have changed here
i’m dragged down a hall like a bag and i look for a phone, other doors
nothing but bare floors and brown boxes in small rooms
he pulls me into the bathroom
and i almost crack my head as he pushes me onto the floor
tilts his head to the side and gazes at me
as if i was a pet then walks out
i’m lying there for a long time, trying to get the tape off of me
my eyes are tearing. i don’t make a sound
i can’t get up and i keep rolling from side to side, trying not to make noise
i’ve got to get him to talk to me
if i can get this thing off my face i can talk to him
i’ll tell him my name
have you k!lled other women in here?
i’m thinking you’ve got hundreds of them nailed down
hung on walls, hanging from ceiling fans
swinging dead in summer wind
why did you pick me?
if i had stayed to finish at the library
i would have been there twenty minutes longer
maybe i’d have been ok
would have rushed into the house, books piled up in my arms like a baby
and blurted explanations why i was sorry
so sorry i’m late everyone
would you have waited for me anyway?
would you have picked another woman?
would i have read about her in the paper and said
oh my god, i was there that night…
and called all my friends in a panic
telling them then how much i loved them
as if i’d never have the chance again
i wonder what everyone is doing now. putting up signs
showing my picture on the evening news. calling old friends
maybe i’m not even considered missing yet
the family will fall apart and my parents will go crazy. slowly
my brother will be so quiet at the funeral and insist the casket be closed
(i never even told anyone what kind of funeral i wanted when i died.)
maybe years from now they’ll find my skeleton
on the floor here and they’ll have to use dental records to identify me
my family will say “at least we know now
we always hoped she was alive somewhere
we just hope she’s in peace.”
when i sleep my dreams are crazy — i’m flying over fields
i don’t think i sleep for more than twenty minutes and when i wake up
it feels like i’m under a heavy blanket. i’m still here
as i wake up i hear a dog barking in the distance
and i think i’m in my parents’ house in south carolina
when i open my eyes, there’s a shotgun pressed between them
i’ll never get married
i’ll never have kids
i’ll never go to europe
i’ll never learn to play piano
i’ll never write a book
the last thing i hear is a cl!ck
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