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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>1st Date And A Hanging</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He hung there, <br>not like 'strange fruit'<br>but like a body.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hs blackened tongue partially protruding from his mouth, <br>and a belt around his neck.<br>911 operator asked if I was sure he was dead.<br>'Oh yeah.. he's f78king dead' <br>His face was purple black, <br>there was no doubt.<br>he was dead.<br>'I'm going to need you to cut him down'- the 911 operator..<br>'ummm... what? '<br>'Cut im down'<br>I climbed next to him, <br>tryng to balance on the wrought iron fence from which he had picked to end his life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do you realize how close you have to get to a dead man in order to cut him down off a gate? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mind went blank as I sawed throuh the belt with a dull knife.<br>My mind went blank, <br>I looked at the belt...<br>only the belt, <br>not what was attached.<br>I had blocked out what was dangling from the other end of that belt, <br>until I heard the muted 'thud'<br>Body hitting pavement.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then it was all flashing lights, sirens, interviews, crime scene photogs.<br>It was all yellow tape and I stood back to watch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It took them hours, <br>meanwhile, the type of people who roam the streets at homeless shelters at 3: 00 AM, <br>walked past... slowly.<br>always the same dumb question: <br>'Is he dead? ' they would ask me.<br>'Well, he isn't doig well.'<br>They kept walking.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Later, after the carnival died down, my bar tender texted me.<br>'Hows work? '<br>(I think she lived vicariously through the chaos of my line of work) <br>I told her of the nights events.<br>I had to cut down the body of a man, <br>a resident, <br>one I knew well<br>down from a gate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within the hour she was at my workplace.<br>I sat in her car, eating chocolates she brought to cheer me up.<br>chain smoking<br>and trying to catch my breath, <br>trying to catch up with myself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My bartender considers this our first date. <br>(we are married now) .<br>I consider it the night I cut down a man<br>A man who hung himself over a woman <br>from a gate... <br>and then ate chococlate and chain smoked.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Brevet+Wilson">Brevet Wilson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=353016" data-title="1st Date And A Hanging de Brevet Wilson" data-description="He hung there, 
not like 'strange fruit'
but like a body.

Hs blackened tongue partially protruding from his mouth, 
and a belt around his neck.
911 operator asked if I was sure he was dead.
'Oh yeah.. he's f78king dead' 
His face was purple black..."></div>
</div>
</div>