I sit.
still; left leather top
and gate closed. far
from earth; ragged
look.

You never reached the door.
You stood outside, faced the sitting room.
Rain beating scars to heavy windows.
A warm fire panting. The couch patting the warm space
     you left; your lips
     open ajar, as my door,
and down your leg, a line,
a scrawl: love.

     To answer an angry growl,

I sang:
“please, two peas!
     you left;
don’t go — I’ve a hole in my heart,
     you know?”

     That exultation: it’s exhausting.

Aghast
An arthritic clicking of the fingers.
     I’ve snapped them like crazy.
     I’m clicking them now! Like the dog might come to me!?
I could change tempo.
     Life by my own beat for a bit.

But
     now, now
let’s try to find sanity.
     “I’m not just talking to myself. Please, forgive! Listen:
      We can’t run away from anger. We’ve got to make peace and be real.”
So look not forlorn, for us:
knee-deep in filth,
chatting and fighting.
Because I liked you.
And you liked me.
      A little bit.