901 or Play

snake hands
gripped so tight
with an apple in my mouth
and her boot on my ass.
she teases like she
has some secret she wants
to give up.
i grunt that i didn’t come
here for love or for a rough
fuck,
i just wanted to get out
of the house -
damn mirrors for company.

when these dreams come
a dream comes next of her
and she’s always sobbing
i’m always yelling,
“i did some stupid things
but i was a stupid kid
i was a stupid kid…
i’m still a stupid kid”
and it’s a little boy’s
cry for sanity,
for moral justice
to please a woman
I haven’t spoken to in months

i dreamt i saved her from death

now it doesn’t matter

but i wish she would leave
my brain alone

–
isn’t this the best
way to spend the day?
isn’t a poem the best
way to say the things
i pull my hair out for?

now
now
now
–
i stole some prescription pads
so i think i’m going to stop
writing
and stare at my lamp
while taking these painkillers
with some old beer