1361

I renamed our cat

vodka sorrow

and taught him to smoke

Marlboro reds

the day ended like it began

your face

cresting the horizon

nose bleeding

little red rivers

pouring into the clay

didn’t frighten us much

we were getting used to it

the bruises and

long silences

punctuated by

the click clack of a typewriter

the pulling of sheets

the short huffs

long breaths

shaking legs

we’d be more aware

if we had to

but the banks are damp

with sweat and sweet

heavy spit

what’s there to leave

you tell me

you’re getting sober

and I say you’re a cliche

now draw me something

and pretend to be shy

I was wondering the point

while vodka sorrow

crawled across me

purred under my chin

realized I’ve never gotten

used to anything

just gotten used to getting

soft

pass me

something to pass the time