5/6/2015

may 2nd,2015
Lying in the dried gutter with White
by the 11:30 light of the
may moon

  It seemed, to me,
a quiet sylvan scene
the dried out cat tails in the mooreland
bordered by the soft tufts of forest grove.

I drop my cigarette stubbed now into the half empty Heineken
"Yeah I finished it" throw it at the cemented bank
its ember stained glass church body
shattering into pieces
"just a smattering of a
headache," she says, her cigarette finger pressed against a bottle (multitasking)
"the surgery is next week," we lie down on the grass now which is cold.  

Since when do we care?
"i kind of hope i die." a million stars
dangling over the heavens
I envy the ones who burn out unspectacularly.