A Short Movie

I’m brushing my hair and my friends have guns
in their mouths. They’re making knots
of barrels, sucking
bullets – they’re flirting with me,
all of them.          They wink, use tongues
to pull triggers.

The dead friends stand and new friends drop
out of dead friends’ mouths.
The new ones talk:

Happy to see you,
Happyto       seeyou              happy.

I am brushing my hair. There is no
blood. Nothing to clean or look
away from. The new friends have
guns. Have big mouths.

They point guns to the ground
and shoot. There is dust and we are
happy. Covered in it.