too much dope
irritates the shit out of my nervous system
being continuously irritated (snapping)
putting on weight
plagued by small aches and pains (right now open abscess draining
behind my right ball, can’t sit)
think I have trouble sleeping (and, I guess, really don’t)
my habits and routines embarrass me
and I still, although I don’t think so as much, think my arms
too skinny (they really aren’t)
my body too small or too big (varies from day-to-day)
it’s embarrassing to feel
my self body image etc (often)
defined by people around me (my reaction to their reactions)
that embarrasses me a lot
zeal embarrasses me, your zeal for instance
always lining up poets and their poems
one up one down
in relation to you and your poems
(I’m embarrassed by the same zeal, ambitions,
it’s no real consolation that when it rains it rains on everyone)
most of all, this Election Day, I’m embarrassed by death
death is really the only embarrassing thing
and sometimes (unexpectedly these days more often)
it scares the shit out of me
AND, HINGES
Fog hanged over the park, the night cold, and, clean
against the tree you leaned in the sunlight, breathing
he spinned the car out on fine gravel near the gate
she laughing at the tree standing straggly over the fence.
And, the drain clogs, when I shower, with my hair,
queasily, paper rolling out of your handbag, glinting sequins,
and, she stood, laughing over her shoulder by the spinning
wheels
‟how do you get to the station, from here?”
Skin smelling clean, after the shower, and, dark,
merrily, tempting me to talk to you, and, asking if you’ve seen,
and, turning to her friend, tall, and, skinny next to her,
‟Taking the first turning you come to in the book, and curve
round it.” Warm moisture rising, I rise sluggishly,
the latest news from Paris, tho I’ve never been there, calm
‟he never could control the damn thing, and, thinks he’s Fangio.”
She knew better than to laugh, but she did anyway , laughing
hide behind a tree, and, light bark late, keeping the neighbors late,
and, you ask me ‟have you seen the latest news from Paris?”
Out back someone mugging laughter , and, he thought over the
problem
to bust her gut. ‟Did you see that turning the horse made
dog?”
Hours arranged handily on the wrist, I scrutinize them,
and, and tell you ‟I’ve never been there myself, have you?”
How to get back on the road, and, keeping his hands intact.
‟Absolutely splendor, the light on shimmering her hand.”
Hourly, and, after dinner they scrutinize me. ‟How we love,”
and, you answer, ‟yes, dozens of times.” I look at my watch
He’s such a bore. Always running around fast over the place.”
She knew better than to know know better than his local hands,
placed
filling mail order slips, out, sleeping afterward in the down,
and, you shiver, and, laugh, ‟it’s really terrible what’s happening!”
how it sounds in reverse. Scared, and, the hairs turning prematurely
gray, respectably, over the nearest sand mound in the pile
pillow I puff up with my hand before the light goes out
‟oh yes, I agree, would you care to join me for lunch,”
spun gravel rising under the wheels, and, him sitting. The clay
lump
she picked up some too, running it thru her veiled fingers
in the fireplace. And, you say ‟you are thirsty,” and, I believe,
and, you take my hand, handily switching your pursing lips
to the other side clinging higher under the screech, and, wheel.
And, she looked at him, blinking owlly back tears. And, they
came anyway, you, and, ‟I am thirsty too, for more dinner wine”
‟not having any money, but wanting to speak to you so much.”
‟Who? Who? Does he think he is? Anyway?”
She knew there was nothing to do but curve out the light ground
under her, and several more candles to warm the room. To the other
side of your mouth. ‟That’s okay, I love lunch in the park, anyhow.”
His phantom figure stalking shadow after shadow after dark.
And, cry til a little pool formed, and, she rose to go home.
STOP FOR
stop for
