Friday, December 12, 2008

the glorious basking of two a.m. hours & part-of-a-previous-evening-prowling-for-ass over coffee

Woke up in the
morning, for once,
a little before 9 am,
the anxiety of a dark
dream bolting me into
a lucid bedroom, & I
was glad not to be
in that other world
anymore, in that hall
with tall, round card
tables & foot dangling
bar stools--with my
mom & various Korean
ladies from park picnics
& card games past--
cameos in their skin-
tight faded flowered
bodysuits, hair permed
into curls or in tight
black buns, & as always,
the vending machines
were there--to illustrate
my obvious infatuation
with variety & novelty,
represented by: chips,
fruit pies & junk toys

Halfway between being
awake, & dreaming, I
examined my nails in
the filtered dusk above
my face, adjusted my
eyes & stared at the
still, blue light beneath
the bedroom door, I
glanced at a plastic
alarm clock's glowing
analog hands, I
fingered an empty
water bottle on the
floor--in a room
smelling of stale
booze & old fast food;
& branded in my
brain, spinning--the
peaceful complacency
of familiar facial features
mirroring my own
numb funk behind
milky morning blinks.

After lying still
for what I counted to
be a thousand minutes,
I finally got out of
bed, went to the
kitchen & made a
pot of French
chicory; I waited for
you to wake up, to
attend to your
discomfort of being
rejected in a torrential
downpour the night
before, when you
stumbled home an
abandoned mess &
went straight to bed.

We ate a delicious
breakfast: poached,
runny eggs, strong
coffee & buttered
toast, while
calm battered black
& blue face, cursed
the piece-of-ass who
somehow managed
to get away as soon
as you turned your
back, leaving you
without a warm
escort home in the
rain, without a soft
hand to hold your
bored lust to; & at
a little after eleven,
two cups of coffee
later, our heads
were cleared to--
default mode again.

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