She ******* constantly about
cigarette smoke.
Of course, when she’s drunk, she  
smokes all mine.
And while she’s complaining
she’s taking snipes that
I wake up at six in the
morning to dig out of
ashtrays—walking miles to get.

It’s laughable.
She sits there with a  
***** **** hanging
loosely from her hand and
says,
“I don’t like my
apartment smelling like
cigarettes.”
I say,
“Then don’t smoke.”
She says,
“Why don’t you buy some
real cigarettes—I’ll show
you what real
cigarettes taste like.”

Then she storms
off, all *** and hair flying.
She comes back with a
pack of smokes and a
cigar box.
“I paid two dollars for this, you can
put all your ***** butts in here.”

It’s actually beautiful.
It’s made of cedar and
would look great with
a cactus in it.

There are wood shavings at
the bottom, her
money would have been
better spent on
a dollar pack of rolling papers.

I’m field stripping the
snow embossed butts and using
cut up pieces of the
yellow pages to roll
cigarettes that I’m able to smoke.
She doesn’t have
a clue.
She only smokes when
she’s drinking.

It was a
****** mary morning,
with a Van Gogh sky.
I woke up early, and
found a bar that did the  
same.
My kind of place
dark
and empty.
I began ordering ****** marys,
one after another.

At noon I paid
my bill and
caught the bus downtown.
I had to be at the  
courthouse at one for a
probation violation hearing.
I met my lawyer in the  
hall.
He said,
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’re drunk,” he shouted.
“I’m fine,”  I said.
I followed him into the
courtroom.
We sat down across the
table from the
prosecutor.
As soon as we sat
down,
he said,
“Come with me.”
I got up and followed
him into the
judges chambers.
He handed me a small
machine with a
tube attached,
and said,
“Blow in this.”
I did.

He said, "This must be your  
lucky day.
It’s broken.
Do you want a
week in jail or
a month more
probation?”

I’ll take the longer
probation, I said
I had nothing but
time, and a small
amount of cash.
I walked out of
the court house.
Everything
looked ******.

My girl,
when I ****
you
I’m on top of the world.
I become unfurled—like a  
whale’s tail,
like a dolphin in a
sea of love,
your ***** fits me like
a glove.
They say doves mate for
life,
and swans die in
the spring,
you make my ****
sing, like yang ling or
whatever that panda’s
name was.
It’s love that  
makes the world go around,
and baby,
I found it.

My window of
tolerance is
more like a peep hole.
My comfort zone has gone
to hell.
They say, fight or flight;
I tend to freeze.
I miss the easy
days of youth,
when everything was
green and serene.
The cicadas and bobwhites
sang me to sleep.
The fields and streams
called to me.
I dreamed of
fish and candy
and the perfect girl.
I smelled love and
tasted simplicity.
I pray someday,
my window grows

Our hypothermic love makes me
feel like a frozen lizard.
Road tripping to Cedar Rapids—
it’s a ******’ blizzard.  
I need some spirits quick to
warm me, then I’ll give her
my hypodermic rod;
one hundred cc’s of thick
hot nectar of the gods, then
this ******* nightmare of
frostbite will end.
And the light and the heat of
my **** inside her will be
our fervor and our grandeur.

I'm an athlete.
I can throw and catch,
and run in the sun-
all shiny and bright.
And you just sleep, sleep, sleep.

Look at me, mama.
I'm a writer.
I do poetry and stories,
all pretty and pink,
and all you do is,
sleep, sleep, sleep.

Look at me, mama.
I can dance.
I'm lonely,
I'll move to France,
meet a woman, and get married.
Look at the ants crawl through
the spilled red juice on
the grass, nature everywhere,
as you sleep, sleep, sleep. 

Look mama,
Look at me, mama!
I have children now,
all good and wise,
you're a grandma.
Why don't you wake up?

Please look at me, mama.
Open your eyes.
I'm lonely and afraid.
I'm old now, and cold,
and you still,
just
sleep, sleep, sleep...

She had that
octopus smile,
always reaching for
something.
I was her small
fish; her handmaid.
I lived in her nebulous
world for far too long.
Inky confusion...

There's a reason for
your treason, said the
old man to the shark,
but Hem forgot, a beast
is a beast, they do
beastly things.
We all have to eat.

I'm done being the
meal.
It's your Ocean,
I'm just trying to
swim in it.

You're an oyster,
and I want your
pearl,
but I won't drown
for it.