2011
10.29
why do you keep looking
out the window, asked the girl
working at mcdonald’s.
i left my key in the car,
hope no one steals it.
don’t worry, there aren’t
many car thieves in this town
but guess what happened last night?
some dude pulled his thing out
at the drive-thru.
his what?
you know, she giggled
his dick.
imagine that,
a teenage nymph
hitting on
a sixty nine year old geezer.
beware young girls,
grandpa’s got your lollipop.
2011
10.25
Vincent comes stumbling down the stairs
with his shades on and he’s muttering something
about Theo, how Theo never wrote back, how Theo
never cared, not really, no matter how much he said
he did or pretended to and i don’t know what to tell
him, this is all so sudden, he’s only been living here
a couple of weeks and already he’s lost it. this was
supposed to be good for him and look at him throwing
himself around the room, pitiful, he should be up in the
room i made up for him, working.
Vincent’s happy when he’s working, it calms
him like nothing i’ve ever seen, he’s not such
an animal when he’s got something to tend to.
he’s got to keep busy or else he’ll wind up
falling down my stairs as he does now.
i fold my arms.
he’s been drinking.
i have too, you don’t see me bothering
anybody and in my own home this is
happening, who would’ve thought?
“i’ll do it,” he says, “don’t think for a second
that i won’t do it.”
i don’t say anything.
“i’ll go out in the field and do it
all over again! i swear!”
he’s crying now, i can see it.
he falls to the floor, lands in his spit
and drops the bottle.
it tips, spills all over the rug and the
rug is white and the wine is red, see,
it’ll never come out.
it’s empty now, but he picks it up anyway
and sets it upright.
some time passes. he sobs and sobs.
i don’t say a word.
then he looks at me and wipes
his face with his hands.
“sorry,” he sputters, “sorry about
the rug.”
he gathers himself, stands up,
holds himself upright against
the wall. he’s panting.
“i’ll be upstairs,” he says.
“o.k., Vincent.”
on his way up he turns.
“i may have thrown
up in your shoes.”
“o.k., Vincent.”
2011
10.23
I don’t remember why
I closed the bathroom door
Where did our laundry go
I keep doing things arbitrarily
It sucks that you’re not here right now
Should I shave my face and eat the hair
I keep doing things arbitrarily
This fuzz looked like a flea for a second
2011
10.19
I was sad yesterday. a sadness with sharp veins
of lunging anger
not the regular vainglorious sadness that
comes of failure; day to day. this was doom status for
a true innocent
it’s a cruel god or No God at work in the curtains
when life begins to bleed out of a body in a panic
and dark echoes all night in the dusky veils of my sleep
the innocent in the dungeon of its final hours
never knowing, still believing in the flavour of sunlight
2011
10.17
Suits times eight, my favourites
are sky blue with pink pin stripes;
light brown; grey with thin blue
checks. Also shirts, ties, socks
and shoes of various colours and designs.
These are my loved ones. They are
whom I share my life with, care for,
welcome me home, talk to. Plants die,
pets make me sneeze. Family, friends
and women demand that I have feelings.