The 13th Castle

I spilled Caesar salad dressing
all over my pants to start my day.

That was nice.

I never made the connection
between my trivial luck -
the curse of Murphy's Law,
to those who know the taste
of a shotgun barrel
on their lips.
The smell of tobacco
on their fingers,
The feel of a well oiled trigger.

My mind and I were at peace.
Sure, vexed at my clumsiness,
but the world was somehow to
blame too. Chaos Theory. That butterfly
in Siberia. Take your pick.

I rinsed my pants
in a porcelain sink
under a column of cool, clean water.
I worried it would stain
until I heard the sharp
popcorn sound from the apartment
next door.

The muffled impact
on floorboards.

A vacuum of silence.

Then the overflowing sink
brought my attention back
to the real problem at hand.

Damn. Why me?