POISON DELI MEAT I climb the cold stone steps, hands deep in my coat pockets. Searching for money to go in the corner store deli, but there is a pigeon lying in the road in front of me; one of its wings is still twitching but I think it's dead. I flick it with the toe of my muddy boot and watch it settle in the long wet grass. I can hear the hollow rattle of the diesel engine in the distance, and as I stand and wait for the wagon to take me down to the valley I think about the poison. This place sales us daily. Sometimes in my quieter moments I find myself wishing I could stay here, wishing I belonged. I'm jealous; the folks working there have an identity, they belong and they are something and I, I kind of feel a little lost sometimes, a little aimless. But I know it's not easy, only last week all the deli meat was attacked again, The kids' was acting crazy. It made me wonder if these people was feeding us horror on rye bread or the salty meat sprayed with some kind of stuff. Mostly all the candy is old , but i can't help it but to buy it ! or should we just get our candy from the local guys on the corner, goodness i don't have ten dollars just barely have fifty cents , Josh and Capri always at work at the deli and it's not meat i see but some kind of foil package , my mind wonder what kind of meat is that and i want to try it ! Is it where addiction was born for the package goods that seem to be our hood goodies down by the (corner store) well that's what they call it, I can still remember the tales of this man in his last days from the poison he fed himself. A man lying at the point of death called his wife to his bedside and said: "I am about to leave you forever; give me, therefore, one last proof of your affection and fidelity, for, according to him he was taken by the dust or the package that is known as bad meat, a married man seeking admittance at the gate of Heaven is required to swear that he has never defiled himself with an unworthy substance. In my desk you will find a glass bowl a doctor's needle and a bag, which has a peculiar mystical significance. Swear to me that while it is in existence you will never clash with these items." compromise me ! The Woman swore and the Man died. At the funeral the Woman stood at the head of the bier, holding these things and said with you that took you i give these back ! This the stuff i grew up in back in the late 60's the owner of the store was well known as the candyman , I wonder what goodies he will come with today , maybe he might notice me and give me a job so i can feel special too.