telephony
over a
month of
bittersweet
silence
thirty-six
days, to
be precise
and then
the princess
calls, says
that she
misses me
in spite of
her social
schedule
a perpetual
busy signal
so, she
misses me
she says
though my
answering
machine
tells me
otherwise
and after
more than
a month
on ice
i would
sooner be
drinking
hot bourbon
in hell
than be
just another
number
chilling in
her little
black book
transfusion
the broken
man opened
up the
main vein
of his life
and let his
sadness
bleed out
then he
filled the
emptiness
with
cheap
whiskey
and
cheaper
wine
it didn't
do any-
thing for
his soul
but it did
seem to
improve his
circulation.
1 comment:
I really like Telephony
Post a Comment