The Stranger

I killed one man.
I felt his last breath
dissolving in the pungent atmosphere of the sea.
His eyes
watched me
fearful and shocked.

What have I done?

I did not fire one shot.
I fired four
to make sure he was dead.
The blazing air was
melting my skin.
Oh, the sun
so scorching
so painfully hot
I could not see
anything
but the man's pasty face
contorted in a dead smile.

They asked me why.
They asked me how and when and where
They asked and asked
and asked and never stopped
their absurd and bitter questions
that were so irrelevant.

I laughed
and told them
the sun was so hot
the skin on my nose
peeled off.