Wayne Gretzky, Where Are You Now? By Steven Storrie

I’m knee deep in mud, mother
Blood pouring from my chest
I don’t recognise these fields or faces
The last things I’ll ever see
I wanna come back home, ma
I wanna come back home

I didn’t see the bullet
That ripped right through my skin
But I can smell the burning, ma
I can smell it

My hands fall into the puddle
People charge and scream and shoot
I forget what it was that brought us here, ma
Does it matter?

How is the old hockey team getting on, pa?
Some wins this year
I hope
Tell coach I was asking after him
If you see him

How is the farm coming, brother?
There’s no need for my medals now
Will you keep them?
If you’re missing my face
Don’t worry
I’ll be on your T.V
soon enough

There were sweet things at the blue line
My friend
Great things at the red
Hit somebody, will you
Hit somebody.

Feeling weak now, sister
Feeling weak
Don’t let that job get you down
Keep my records
If you want them
You were always the best of them
anyhow

It’s getting dark, my darling
It’s getting dark
Don’t let them leave me here
Cold and wet and scarred
Don’t weep for me, my love
Please don’t weep so hard
Know that I went with my friends
Around me
The birds above me
And you
In the same place you always were

Firmly in my heart.

Steven Storrie 3
Steven Storrie has worked as a cable T.V repair man, dishwasher, choreographer, ice cream vendor and junk yard attendant. Tired of this he is currently locked in his basement working on his first full collection of poetry, bickering with his neighbours over nothing and storing the baseballs he keeps when they are hit into his yard. His first collection of short stories, We Are Not The Kids We Used To Be, will be released in November by DevilHouse Press. You can find him at the website he runs, ‘Black Coffee For Breakfast’, at http://renegadepriest11.wix.com/blackcoffeebreakfast
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