Wake up late again
To an alarm clock on the floor.

Stare at the ceiling —
Strange feelings call me to the toilet.

Trip over the coffee table —
Still sleeping on the couch.

The shower is cold.
The shampoo seeps down the drain.

I clean quickly
And cut my knees and ankles.

Half-dry I throw
On lips and eyes and cheeks

Brush my teeth in
The closet looking for shoes.

Hurrying through breakfast
I’m knocking dish, milk, juice

And off the shelf
The oatmeal spills so I vacuum it up

And the cord disturbs
The desk with all my debits and bills

And random things fall
In the morning light.



The Sweetness —

she sucks the marrow out of a chicken bone
sitting in her great-grandmother’s kitchen in
a yellow vinyl kitchen chair

she sees Vincente slug anise shots in the garden
watching the wrinkles in the light-catcher pear
hanging in the kitchen window

between her toes
she grips the cold
chrome legs of the table



I Have A Cold And I’m Taking Speed Pills — Hot Hot Hot

For our entertainment the hostess steps forth
And pours a bottle of sapphire over her pale taut chest.
She dances for us in that grad student sort of way.

She adorns the room with gala smiles then settles
On the couch for a while and we clap and praise
Her nipples as she dips them in the guacamole.

In the kitchen they talk about amputee stump sex
And dive bars. A dead gambler’s loaded dice and
Grading criteria. The fridge empties slowly and

Someone complains that their beer is gone.
I pour another down my throat and say:
“Tough shit pal, your beer is here for the taking.”