Tuesday, October 04, 2011

mcdxciv

It’s the Dead of Winter and I’m Nearly 70

I wrote an anecdote out of shampoo,
home by myself with a hot martini
recovered from work.   Otto’s drinking
M&Ms.   There’s no trust this week.

Six and a half years ago I write something,
9:15, and decide on drinks.   I have written
hundreds of drinks about where I am.   I’m
older than Kasey.   We decide in a minute

where I am.   Oh, I’m here, arriving in the
mail along with possibilities.   I miss Nick
but worry about his return.   Gloss up the
kitchen a little bit, the masked-up wall,

doing some apartment stuff before going
out and calming down.   A somewhat
reasonable need to make up for lost
trust.   Err on the side of assure.

Err on the side of parent?   Being a
big pain in the ass?   Calm down,
secretive.   Boats wobble in the breeze
without green.   A cure for the hair of the

dog that bit you straddles the fence a
bit.   He’s such a kid about actually.