Little frog shot glass
sits staring through me
brought her book
and plans to return it
with a little love from the past
alas, I'm a dreg
hedging in old organic emotions
with sharp edges
whiskey, cigarettes
panic over a manic thought
so instead I'll put the book
in a box
send it to her through the mail
keep my hands to myself
write a little note, place inside
where it may fall from the shelf
with pencil scrapes spelling out
"Sorry I was greedy
and you thought you needed me
but I'm like the dead bodies
in these pages, cover me up
close my eyes, drape a blanket
over me and leave me
faceless."