The Grey Goose

The grey goose
Flew across the sky
And I could care less.
My rifle sat at my feet,
And a cool breeze blew
Past me. It should have
Chilled me but I felt
Nothing.

I shot him,
Blood was everywhere,
His last breath was long gone,
He was long gone.
I stood my position,
Should I take him home?
Or should I put him
In the bayou?

He shouldn’t have been here,
This was my place,
My escape from life,
Our life,
The life of two gay men
Living in the deep south.

I shot my lover,
I shot my best friend,
I felt like it was
I who was dead,
I who ceased to be
And I did die
In the moment that bullet
Pierced his heart.

I can imagine
What they would say
If I took him home.
Across the headlines,
“Gay man shoots his lover.”
“Lover’s spat ends in death.”
The reality is
We were not arguing.

We were not even talking,
He was sneaking up on me
And I shot out
Thinking he was a gator.
He died and I died.

I died
As his body was swallowed
By the cool waters
Of the bayou.

I died
As I walked in after him
And let the waters take me
Home to my lover,
To my best friend.