Addendum

One more cigarette before I go; and any more receipts

over 300 bucks, please, and an explanation

as to why I feel this way again, this hallowing out of my body,

this loss of form or structure.

And maybe one more glass of rum coke, with a lot of ice?

You know how I like it — the ratio is 1 is to 3 —

you know I like the sweet.

I’ve forgotten how

it felt beneath my skin, if not the taste.

And why is that?

And can I bring the cookies home if you won’t eat them

and that CD full of sad songs you kept playing

in your car when we used to go out?

 

Can I have another cigarette?

Tell me why you can’t take me seriously.

Why I’m a better friend than a…

Borrow your lighter, mine is out of fluid,

I’ve been out of gas for a long time now, haven’t I?

Burnt the candle off of both ends, like they always say.

Spent it all in every go, not the most celebrated of things to do

but it’s the only way I know, you know?

Hear that? Beep. Beep. Beep.

They still want me to go out but I have not the will.

 

Who talks like that anymore? “But I have not the will?”

Stop yawning! I can see the end of your mouth, and it’s been a long time

since the last time, for me. Let me finish this cigarette

and I’ll be out of your hair for tonight.

Just say something I can bring home.

Something, anything, I can keep in my pocket.

Something small and heavy or whatever you can think of.

 

Do you have a mint?

 

I’ll use the comfort room before I go. I need the comfort.

I know I have my own, I want to use yours and it’s a long way home.

Too long a way. Something of a home.

 

 

Thank you. I’ll go now.

(September 4, 2009)

 

 

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