that's fair (4/17/09)

I spent my Friday night
avoiding people
and the people who I wanted to see
were avoiding
me.
after a rainy drive
wherein I decided
Camels taste like lip balm,
I put Waltz for Debby on the stereo
and drank myself to sleep
cradling a bottle of jack.
I woke up around 6 AM
in a murphy bed
and vomited.
stumbling, I tried
to clean up
but it was overpowering
and I left it for tomorrow
like every other problem.
sleep was filled
with the kind of dreaming
that doctors would prescribe,
and waking was easy.
alone, charles bronson
rampaged on the silver screen
and I had steak and eggs
at three in the afternoon,
perched on a leather davenport
smiling at how joyous it was
just to have no one
and be content about it.
and after a few phone calls
I rolled into the city
lacquered with a fresh coat of rain.
the pitter patter of
thunder in the night
rose on the horizon.
and over coffee
we began to talk discourse
and the loss of ourselves.
it made a lousy dinner nicer
but I'd still call it lousy.
I know you're trouble,
but hell
I don't worry.
I’m not asking much
at least not yet.
you say he’s a nice guy,
that he'd like me,
but I remind you
he didn’t beat an assault rap.
honey,
it's just one of those things
where nothing will ever happen,
but god,
don't you know it could?
in the end
what can I say to you
other than shrug
forgetting your eyes,
and think,
well,
that's fair.