I'm a dulled edge,
getting dressed, put on your shoes
and sit on the couch, waiting
for the love of your life to come
walking in through the door, singing.
but she doesnt come,
fate stood you up.
no smiling face to greet you,
no reason to get up, to bathe,
to leave the house,  to cook,
to get angry, to feel anything.
the nights are long and full
of drinking with whoever can pass a
bottle. beer. wine. pouring *****
in the wine. blowing half your check
at the bar one night,  and the
other half the next.
and I keep thinking 'where's she at?'
today I woke up early,
took out the trash,  smoked a cigarette
watched the sun rise for a while,
turned on the radio, they were
playing Rachmaninoff, turned the
radio back off.
let the cat chew on my beard for
a while.
I've done just about everything,
what else is there?
so I drive to the store. grabbed
a little basket and put in
soap, two apples, an onion,
buy the wrong kind of cornmeal.
some kale and mushrooms.
instinctively buy some things the
last one liked (I'm terrified I'll never
be able to break that habit).
drive home put down the bags.
start taking out the contents and
looking at them,
placing them methodically on the
table crowded with paper and
***** dishes and crumpled
beer cans
and I stare at the sink
full of the same
and then I look at the
floor covered in garbage
and finally to the kale in
my hand.
"my god," I said to the kale "this
is how suicides happen."
I put it down, smoke
another cigarette and watch
the tree growing in the
courtyard. it'll be here after I'm
dead, one of the ugly stains
left in my wake.