I never pray

With these old teeth,
if I still ate candy bars
I’d cut them with a knife
Disintegrate, eliminate, disseminate,
gravitate—for the most part we
just graze one another
like some restless, fateful rabble

In one of my first job interviews
bald big boss asked me if I knew
anything about envelopes
There I was thinking what
the fuck is there to know
about envelopes?
“No sir, I don’t”

She’s such a dreamy girl,
not really here—
she visits me occasionally
Revenge can, at best, restore honor—
nothing more
It won’t repair loss,
fill voids or gladden

Sometimes when I make love to her
she chuckles when my beard tickles her
Another tough talking woman I met
said “I don’t make love, I fuck”
I said “Try making love some time”
Some strivers regard all they meet
as a means, delay, an obstacle

or at best, a temporary resting place
I yearned for you
All day I checked my phone every hour
for a sign from you,
for your message
His screams ascend to heaven
and demand revenge

The darkness here
is now a visible strain
We’re humble when poor,
arrogant when rich, everything
is clean or dirty, right or wrong,
good or bad, true or false
She said “I’m so glad you’re here”

She was once young, thin,
alluring, outgoing and unhappy
Now she’s old and delighted,
grotesque and satisfied
with pictures of her blond little
grandchild to show us, a girl
not half as moody as she was

On a certain Monday in October
harpies flew from my table
Later, when the November winds
blow— my lady of anguish goes
away because her response to pain
is to leave—oh, it could have been
good, it could have been really good

I didn’t want to see
I didn’t want to think
about that history
I’ve searched enough through
time, darkness and loss
I never pray but if I did,
I’d pray for you




-November 11, 2017-