Wednesday, April 2, 2008


Tomorrow when you awake

I will still be your pervert boy

Sick. Reprobate.

You will try to remember how your knees once felt when you bend to pray

Tomorrow when I awake

I will feel my stomach cringe and my throat will collapse on itself, replenish and ready its armor for more war

You will gargle with salt water

Tomorrow when you awake

You will see her shuffle down the hall, pinched toed, crippled old hag

I will recall that day when she looked like Lauren Bacall, collar raised, her hair a respectful gray, denouncing her own biography

Tomorrow when I awake

I will remember you saying to her;

“Come on ole gal…get up on my shoulders!”

She will laugh and call you Barney!

You will reach for your bible, which you still call your sword

Tomorrow when you awake

You will pray for me, half-mockingly claiming some ill-gotten text about the sins of the father.

I will kiss my lover’s back and thank god he hasn’t left me for the horrible person I am

Tomorrow when I awake

I will pick the scab

You will dab the salve

Tomorrow when you awake

You wont know his name or that we’ve been together for 17 years and counting

I will hate myself for being so cruel

Tomorrow when we awake

We might roll over and go back to sleep

We might lie there thinking of each other

We might taste blood in our mouths

We might

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