11.07.2008

If you need a stool sample you'll have to peel me from the oak.

The sound changes its hiss
when the shower goes cold
after someone flushes the toilet
or puts up a load of laundry.
It's something else
trivial and overlooked
that we'll take for granted
until we reach the point
where the lines on the pavement
end.

I gave the time
to the girl in the green dress
once or twice
and it broke both our hearts.

Still, though he's sometimes soaked
with whiskey, bad puns
and even worse decisions
I still have that bluebird
down there somewhere
as I'm reminded every morning.
(Lures and matches, for another mattress.)

And someday I'll storm that gate
with my army of good intentions
bringing up the rear
and Saint Peter will laugh me
right off the battlefield.

No bother;
until then I'll keep on
making sure my decisions
aren't made in a vacuum
and not caring
that no one carves pumpkins anymore.

So take the toothbrush
to those teeth and lips
scrub away last night's purple failure
and drive yourself to work
still affected
but seeing straight enough
to dodge the next round.

On guard, motherbitch.

2 comments:

Samantha E. Gloffke said...

If I read the words "purple" and "lips" in the same poem one more time I'm going to retract my subscription.

Anonymous said...

en guard.