- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Get One
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The streets are soaked in blood. That's what I have to say about this city. If she moves one more inch toward me, for me, and on my behalf I might scream. I'm telling you I want to leave and you're throwing boulders onto my chest and belly. Like last time. You can do it. She doesn't know I sent a letter. I'm waiting for the come down. I figure I make solid decisions broken and dejected. At least the most surprising ones. Stay means sit. Forget it all ever happened. I stood in the breeze and watched as everyone forgot. No one could face me. Talked at me sideways so much I kept looking into the mirror to see what was wrong besides the teeth. Is it the nose, both too big and too small? Too many prayers and not enough freedom. Get one with the Lord. How do I explain that he and I fought like beasts and I was banned from heaven, an Irish pub, and 42nd street? The road has been my friend before. My father was as expected, absent. Write a list were his last words to me.
