Almost Ready For Dinner, Then A

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Keeps me sane

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Squeezed between pissing and shitting and eating

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When I’m not driving to traffic court

Weighing myself and sighing

Bathing with a book thinking about a

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In the night when my arms are sore

Or when I have nothing else to lose

Or everything else to lose

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In between slurping the soup that keeps me alive

Lighting the candles that illuminate my madness

Drinking the tea that makes my heart pump and my lethargy forget

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We want three thousand words, don’t we, but sometimes

All we get is

Agony, depression, regret, loss, dead phones, postmen with rejection, or a

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Sitting cross-legged waiting for the bus

Behind the screen in the leaning chair wearing underwear

Fighting for light in a damp job site

Sore from the fights of the day before

Eyes strained at the lines of blinding light

Before a drink, after a drink, that way keeps to grounded, less verbose

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