It wasn't an argument 'til you started talking.

Sometimes it was more
a matter of sibling rivalry
ribaldry moreover
when it burned down to the fingertips
that midnight oil.
There can be only these few
or else none at all--
spread the wealth
share the love
puff puff pass
take a swig and hand it off
not worrying
since the air conditioning
is still keeping it comfortable
despite the racket it makes.
Who can tread water the longest?

What it was to partake back then
is not what it's become:
Dionysus is no longer invited
and neither are most of the ones
who used to get that call.
We don't cringe at the roster.
They don't even bother to crash anymore.
They know better.
They know that we do.
They know what our idea of fun is now.

And that shower on Sunday
is never shameful anymore
for any of us--
no more aborted ablutions.
It's optional even, the purpose to degrease
not to rid ourselves of the stench of failure
cigarettes, spilled drinks and lavender.
When was the last time you pulled
a stranger's hair from yours in the morning?
How many hair-ties have you thrown out this month?
The coins buried in the couch are probably yours.
You're finding yourself having to change your sheets less
never wanting to burn them.

Some say you lost it, fell off.
Some say you let part of you die
but I know that it was no murder.
I know what you did with him.
You chased him right out of Dodge
the day you realized you weren't in Kansas anymore.

There's plenty in the refrigerator, pal.
Just save some for me and mine.
And if by chance you strike out again
there's always room on my couch.
We'll draw faster than fate eventually.




Currently reading:
"The Flowers of Evil" by Charles Baudelaire.