The music plays. Soft, slow, monotonous, Heavy with foreboding of future deeds. I make my final preparations. I've studied the route many times— The city bus will be my vehicle, Dressed in a suit, carrying a briefcase— The haggard employee going home. Right eye bandaged, bloody gauze Obscuring the face, contacts to see, glasses hid, Skin dye and a wig, Wax-coated fingertips, tooth black, I become someone else… Everyone… No one. Still the music plays. A pay phone and a call— He's home alone. No kids tonight, that makes it right. I catch the bus in front of a doctor’s office. No one looks at the injured executive. They have their own problems— I sit and I listen to them. An old man is crying— he's just buried his son, Leaving behind a daughter-in-law That would not drive him home. I weep at his pain. Young lovers neck behind me. I smile at their passion. In front of me, a man insults his wife. He is covered in grime. I listen. The car broke down, and he couldn't fix it. So he calls her a fat, stupid pig. I remember his face. I'll avenge her later. The music changes…speeds up…grows louder. As I draw near my enemy, The music wants blood. I get off the bus. Night has fallen. I walk to the shouting of the music And find refuge in the forest behind his home. There I don my true face. Leather boots, leather pants, Black dress shirt, black gloves, Black leather mask— only two eye holes, Glorious zipper of a mouth. Dagger strapped to my ankle— small, a viper’s bite, Envenomed. Hooks hanging in back, on the belt— Claws. Machete on my hip, polished and ready. Cleaver. I become revenge— Razor and raptor, Cutter and slasher. The death blow. Finally, in a pouch, padded and safe, Deadly acid, The eraser of all sin. The music takes over my body. Hard, heavy metal and drums, The dance of death and hate Waltzes through me. It takes me, and I, in turn, take my enemy to pieces... I wake up bleary-eyed, rested and happy. I reach for the cigarette that calls to me. I still hear the music.
