They wheeled him
into the procedure room
with the fork sticking out of his cheek
looking like a skewered meatball.

The surgeons administered two shots
and then simply pulled it out.

He was pissed, I suppose.
Anyone would be,
especially someone already consumed
with rage.

Across town,
the guy who did it
told the cop
if he had had another fork
he'd stick him again.

He was pissed, too,
though that particular river
was far more shallow and uncertain
than the guy's in the hospital.

These stories
are real.
No names are needed,
because if you look hard enough
with an open heart,
you'll recognize the actors immediately.

They are the ones
just like everyone else.
You and I, for instance,
to name just two.

It's just a small step
you know
from wherever you are
to wherever you go,
and though it looks
like a long trip
from way up in the air
to smack dab
on the ground,
the truth
tumbles faster
than the kicking screaming self
as the wind rushes past
right before
landing.