1396

(Monday)

disco at the funeral

pastel coffin

and I’m undressing

the priest with my eyes

I fall in the parking

lot and touch him a little

too long while being

helped

cheap aftershave

and ingrown hairs

(Tuesday)

my eyes are red

from making love

with my head pressed against

your pillow

covered in dog hair

I wear

a white shirt

and black sunglasses

when I leave your place

(Wednesday)

I’m crying to country

music with a blue hard-on

a bucket

of crocodile tears

while recording a song

for the dog’s funeral

at least she didn’t

die from a heart attack

(Thursday)

Your dress is tight

against your legs

and struggles to stretch

while you bend down

and I’m a little drunk

and sophomoric

thinking of cheap cologne

and cheap perfume

on my tongue

and my writing suffers

but I still get royalties

from my apathy

(Friday)

Sorry I keep ignoring

your texts

and your invites

but the last time we spoke

you were a little needy

and you know