Sunday, December 15, 2013

mmxlvii

Did you wolf down the fish n chips?
                     —a text message I received

August.  Haze of hangover all day.
Now it is afternoon.  The aftermath
of the worst blow-up.  I’m going to
hear about this for the rest of my
life.  How to Throw the Worst
Party Imaginable.  I question
everything, especially my
biography.

The last couple of weeks are
on the bed for us.  It’s all
terrific until what else?
Yuck!  I can’t buy any
clothes with no more
money.

I needed this week.
Meaning the days
leading up to the
Titanic hitting
the iceberg.
Such a good
thing shouldn’t
disappear so quickly.

Hating money is
only remorse.
Just forget it
all—play games
on my cellphone.
Which gets quite a
rise out of the audience.