The Shot

He decides to make a move. 
Is it on impulse?
Or necessity.
He commits to a
a choice, an action;
That no matter what,
He is willing to accept
All that happens next.

Anticipation of
Water splashing high
Onto the woolen dress suit 
Sized to perfection
By the skilled hands
Of a local tailor.

Cleaning isn’t cheap
Nor is it a quick task
Might take weeks
To get it back from the shop 
And at least forty bucks
For the jacket top alone. 
Pants? Twenty-six.

Leather shoes from
Bovine skin wrapped 
Expertly around soles, 
Ankles and toes.
Layered over a nylon
Sock that reaches

Soaked in cold water 
Clinging to the taught, tender 
Skin beneath it.

Hadn’t the clothing themselves 
Proven to be unnecessarily 
And yet this decision
Will only add more
Of that discomfort
To the mix.

Oh well!
No need to worry about all of those details now. He needs to get somewhere, quick!
Like his life depends on it.
And he takes the leap,
I wonder if he knew
That a camera caught
Him in mid-air and froze him in history
Just before the consequence
of his decision
Could ever be seen or felt.

—Ivory Smith 

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