John Wick is so tired, but he can still throw a hatchet and hit a guy dead in the facehe can just split other people open with anything, with a pencilbecause he knows what it’s likebecause he’s tired and loves dogs and he’s cracked right open too andI want to tell you tolook at his feet when he runsthe way they turn so delicately inthe way they’re listing slightly, his black shoesthe heels of themtheir heartbreaking glissade hush-hushing across the hotel tilesjust look at the way he’s slippingeven before he soaks the floor with other people’s bloodI want to do push-ups like John Wick does in the morningso I won’t just be sad but sad and also ripped, likesad with muscles that stand out all obvious in desolate reliefsad where it looks like I eat clean and have expensive tasteI want to be sad but with a cut six-pack andto drink thimblefuls of espresso out of impeccable cups andI want to tell you to wait and be here and lookat me and also at the way John Wick is leaninginto those people that he’s stabbinghow he gets so close to them and just holds them for a secondhow he’s so tired but he knows he has to let them goand I wish you would be here andwe could watch John Wick togetherand we could put our ruthless arms around each other and if we lookedout the window it would be all Californiaand I would lean in close and tell you that John Wick kills women likehe’s read feminist theorywhich is to say I think he’s familiar with the philosophy of care and you would laugh andwait, look now, John Wick is ridingthat black horse like he knows just what grief islike he knows sometimes it’s killing and killing andsometimes it’s just slipping in your shoes andI want you to be here andwait, now the camera’s right on him, just all cool colors and diaphanous mood andit looks like his hand hurts like his knuckles are a little swollen buthe’s not saying it andI want to know what you thinkof all that blue light


Courtesy of Na Kim.