A
Poem in the
Before Choice Disturbs collection
Sweet-
sick silence
Gulps me up
Swears to the taste
Of
stale beer,
But I've had none.
He returns,
His chick in tow,
To hide behind the balsa-wall.
The plywood door shuts with a --SMACK--
His laughter winds
Through wood--
Leads
To bed groans.
In my room,
I catch each creak
and every carnal giggle
Repeating:
Alone... alone... alone
I'm alone,
On cool
Smooth
Even sheets.