Thursday, June 28, 2007

Comedown



Getting out of bed I step on
a used condom; a feeling like
walking through knee-high wet grass,
not knowing where to step or stand
without making matters worse.

My MP3 player is still hooked up to your
laptop, batteries now fully recharged;
the track we got tired of, paused
before the second chorus.

To make the half-light brighter
I take a swig or two of rancid wine;
no matter, last night we couldn’t taste it
let alone feel our tongues.

Fumbling for my boxer shorts
hung on the corner of your desk,
I see you use empty stamp booklets
to mark your place in ... books.

Someone’s making coffee elsewhere
in your house, I gag on the smell as
you wake up and frown, thinking;
the last time you’ll ever see me is now
retching into your waste-paper bin.









CJ Underwood

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