Drug Deal In The Balkans by Noel Negele

I can’t smoke those damn cuban cigars
for the life of me,
all that smoke entering the throat
like a cluster of needles
and then exhaling the murky
phalanx of tiny particles of carbon, tar
oils and ash and all the rest thousand
ass-cancer producing components out
of your disgusted mouth
trying hard to maintain a straight face
in the process

but this guy likes it
looking at me straight to my eyes
with his lousy tattoos
smoking and showing his yellow teeth
as if smoking cigars means some kind
of an upper class merit-
all the while I imagine oral bacteria
dancing in circles in his mouth
praising the human vices
for one more good day of degeneracy

it looks as if he’s sucking
on a small African child’s penis

Listen he says
there are three kilos
to take from A to B
and I need to know
you’re not gonna spill
to the pigs if they get to you

No worries
I respond
I am more omerta
than the Sicilian mafia
in the forties
and too smart for any pig
to sniff me out

And then of course he goes on
to tell me of dangerous folks
in all the possible prisons I’ll get transferred to
if I spill that will most surely make my stay there
a living hell of rape and beating
although we all know rape is monopolized by
the Americans.

The man kept at it without knowing
that I have relatives far more dangerous
in those places
and that for me to get caught
going in meant like a family reunion

besides most of the people he
spoke of
were teammates of mine
from back when we used to play football
at those terrible sandlots

anyway, I acted all tight and took the money
I even put gasoline in the car
as if I’m going to make the trip

needless to say
I headed to the closest bar
drank Johnny Blue for the first time
slept with the most beautiful hooker
in town at exactly 03:00 AM
and in the morning I laughed smoking
my cigarette and thinking the way
his lips suckled on the tip of the cigar
like an asshole around a dildo

I know where to pick my battles

Unless I’m knifed or shot
somewhere between Saturday
and Sunday this week.

Noel Negele

Noel Negele was born and raised in Albania but currently resides in Greece. Some of his scribblings are alive on Dead Snakes and Horror Sleaze Trash, and a couple are featured in Midnight Lane Boutique. Not much else to say.


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