Night sits in His chair next to mine, and we argue
over the nature of morality. He believes in one Absolute.
I believe in two. He makes a strong case.
But I’ve seen both Night and Day. Could I possibly choose?
Silence swam with me the day I was in the river.
When She talked, it was like the water flowing.
I listened, but I could only hear the wind.
When I looked about me, I was alone on a rock.
The water moved on.
Temperance pulled up a stool next to me in the bar.
He didn’t say much, just ordered a few rounds and
smoked a cigarette. When he went to the john,
I took the matches he was using. The cover read “Stop.”
What a joke.
Love sang as I was passing by in my rusted Chevy.
The road was dusty, the tall weeds flowered yellow-white.
I heard the song again, but it was just an old robin.
Its breast was faded from orange into grey.
But I loved it anyway.
The City groaned and sank within herself. She was troubled.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her, and she sank some more.
“Indigestion,” she sighed, and let out a bloated burp.
“And I’m a little dehydrated,” she said.
I told her I sympathized. But I didn’t. Not really.
There was a little Ghost in the circuitry, a pesky thing.
I watched it flit about in its little ghost country of wires
and bones. It touched a synapse, a metal relay, and it
jumped back as the blue snap of electricity singed the
air with ozone. I’ve seen how these things work.
The Year passed by and waved. I waved back.
But the next Year, I pretended to have something in my eye.
The Year waved, but I rubbed my eye until it was gone.
Now, I just ignore them. They all look the same anyway.
They keep waving though. I keep getting older.
There goes Sex. Wearing another low-cut dress.
Always touching someone, making everyone look.
Slut.
Why do all the sluts look so hot?
A Poem woke me up. I sat up in bed and in the darkness
She spoke. She told me to write.
I told her it could wait.
I’ve still got the crimson mark on my face
where she slapped me.