When Paper Mache Carries Clout

Allow me to draw you a square
in the sand that's been poured
from every nearby vagina
within a two-town radius
and across a crumbling bridge
o'er the Hudson.

Let the first line represent
the time wasted
waiting for action
inhibited by prolonged
teacher's union health insurance benefits
and the sad comfort of shared pets.

The second line is for
animal magnetism--
The way we fit so right
physically, anatomically
in the stillness of either bedroom
with the box fan on
to supply white noise
since I've conditioned myself
to need it
in the absence of other consistency.

It makes the most sense
to carve the third line
in honor of that weekend in Manhattan
I had planned in my head
when she'd sell off her rings
and we'd celebrate
new beginnings
possibly involving
pleasantly naive offspring.

The fourth can be
anything really
though for the sake of this exercise
I'll dedicate it to the lap dog
I miss more than the spite
that tainted every angry word
spewed in fits
of mutually frustrated confusion.

Now I'll draw a 1 in the center
of the square we've fashioned
to appease a stranger soaked in gin.

That's where we are.

Desperation is an ugly color.
When's the last time
you called your mother?

No comments: