They play with their mirrors

feelings are never true. i like how
you said that as you lowered
yourself onto the barstool and ordered
a draft, not miller lite tho, something
foreign sounding, you know, like heidigger.

the bystander effect is in full bloom since last we spoke.
i watch love being pummelled in the basement. the hands
seem familiar. the scar on the forefinger looks remarkably
like the one i got washing dishes for you the first time.

she's dazed, she's holding her stomach, she was beautiful
before all this happened. crack junkie. endorphin whore.
might as well move on out of this hood, move along
little cur. little tail between little legs. little snarl.

nothing's little in my tears. big crocs of them, washing
into the weekend that wasn't, in advance. love's wondering
wtf? she reminds me "but you knew this ". i slap her again.
when did i get so violent? is osmosis that easy?


it's always me me me she says to me.
yes, i agree. it's all about what makes you.
happy? confounded? no lessons
in cross cut crinkle fries here, no heart shaped potato puffs,
baked, not fried. listen. do you hear

where the lip split, do you see where fistsful
of hair lie on the floor? here, let me gather that up
for a weave. we can tune in to dr. phil
for the talking to. one thing, i tell her.
at least we didn't have kids.

















































*(_)(*U



she thought it would be a second chance
at what should have worked the first time
but couldn't. no wills involved. many won'ts.
many many many men wish death on me.
you call me hoochie, so i bring out the mask.
picture this: nails of a prodigal son painted pink
with blue polka dots. lips to match. fairy wings.
pixie dust. escape without the black suit and pine.


]\\


all that means is you gonna try to take the rolls wit ya.




(*(87&


obscurity and the bargain basements that house it.
it's so big it has to rent itself out by the hour, in several
homes and villages in a theatre near you.

love and the way she wants to don her mask again. the inside
being you, the outside being me. then invert and the shirts on the other foot
where mixing metaphors just became a full time job.

none of it makes sense, really, until you understand
that love asked for it. otherwise, why would she
keep coming back, why not get a restraining order?
no sense, until you notice
that mirrors reflect because there are eyes looking in.