forgotten
photographs found
tears
actually hit the ground
i
am not wasting another moment
with
the thoughts that accompany
your
image
i
hit the street
and
hit the first bar i see
drink
to be free
but
the photograph of you
is
all i see
the
jukebox actually has
The
Julie Ruin song
“run
fast”
i
pump in the quarters
and
press B17 again and again
if
you want to give me shit
over
replaying this selection
i’m
ready to dance
i
almost leave
so
i can go home
and
look at your picture
again
trace
every curve
give
in
to
the closest memory
i
have of love
even
if …
never
mind
i
wasn’t planning on finding
that
shoebox
but
i did
now
i wish i was a kid
with
someone to teach me
to
never lift the lid
on
memories
but
goddamn
you
were so beautiful
and
now you’re just gone
and
i have to assure
the
bartender that i do not
own
a car
so
i won’t be driving
i
just have an apartment key
and
walking shoes
another
irish car bomb please
and
no more questions asked
and
i understand that i am
a
published writer
with
memories of a lifetime lived
but
i cannot claim relevance
not
because i’m pretending
to
be a nihilist
to
deaden the pain
only
love can make me matter
because
i would then matter to someone
but
right now
there
are no arms around me
breasts
pressed against me
as
part of the embrace
memories
only a male mind
will
trace
and
never erase
someone
just said something
about
my song choice
i
track the voice
and
see it is a muscled male
i
fly off my bar stool
i’m
the exorcist
and
he’s the ghoul
and
he won’t be troubling
my
soul anymore
although
now i am on the floor
damn
this
place has six bouncers
and
i’m suddenly
out
on the sidewalk
oh
well
it
is only with me that i talk
i
offer myself a smoke
and
start to walk
BITCH
***
No comments:
Post a Comment