she wasn’t in the bedroom.
she wasn’t in the kitchen. she wasn’t
I had this bad feeling.
I walked outside and crossed the lawn to
the neighbor guy’s place. He had this big picture window.
looking at it was like watching a cinemascope movie.
there they were on the big screen curled up together
on the sofa.
betrayal like a sucker punch.
so I went back to our place and threw
all her stuff on the front lawn. it was midnight
and the stuff was piled up out there
under a beautiful bright full moon.
suddenly I felt a better.
I felt like a man instead
it was a miracle nobody stole the stuff
considering the neighborhood we lived in.
married and have been for more than thirty years.
she found the right man.
it is said time heals but that wound
had a scab on it for decades. it is not offended manhood
or anything like that. rather a man should never
trust a woman with a knife
in the middle of the night
back is turned.
the worst thing is the realization
you have nothing to say.
the worst thing is
a collision of words spinning
deaf into a vortex of irrelevance.
you finally understand.
you are like the rest of them.
you have nothing to contribute.
silence is cancer
deaf and dumb metastasis.
it happens to giants and dwarfs
locksmiths and astrophysicists
mathematicians and short order cooks.
it happens to saints and serial murderers.
silence so deafening
it barters with suicide.
why they invented
been in a
might be time to go there.
most people are nice enough.
I’d sacrifice my life to save a
or an old woman who has fallen
in the street as a garbage truck
as a congealed whole
I consider humanity
to be a pathological disease.
individual components are worth mercy
while the masses are a global staph infection.
I don’t know
what the **** is wrong with me.
beer and xanax work temporarily
until sleep obliterates.
in the nuthouse.
no that’s not right.
I am in one right now
— The End —