i called him a lady killer once.
he became incensed.
his face grew dark.
grew livid, grew mean and grey with crimson streaks.
i meant it as a joke (of which he found
style of joking you'd like to bury alive--along with
last day's memory.
"lady killer, i taunted and laughed and pointed my finger, shaking back.
he smiled (the storm had supposedly passed)
and out of his mouth came a tongue
and i guess he really was a lady killer, after all
(the type that emerged only after truly good booze).