LOGIC OF A FINE FRIDAY AFTERNOON
Looking at a Dali print on my wall
on a Friday afternoon
there is a burning giraffe and a
faceless woman with drawers
for breasts and left leg
its winter though the sun shines
like early autumn
my portable fan keeping
the room cool
while society burns outside
like the giraffe
and I am free from its drawers
for a moment:
solitude now a victory--
my soul as warm as the sun.
HOSTAGE
i look at the walls
but they don’t care
neither does
the toaster
the picture frames
the microwave
or blinds--
i am all alone on this
tuesday autumn night
in my apartment in
sydney:
no longer trying to
dodge bullets,
just trying not to bleed
too much
and give away another victory.
TEARS OR FUN
she was beautiful
though i’d never seen
a woman drink as
much as her,
it was actually quite
appealing watching her
throw back all those
stuffed glasses
the problem was the
effect it had on her:
the alcohol took away
all her beauty:
she then told me
she was raped by
her uncle as
a child--
this really made me mad,
mostly considering the
age she was when it
happened;
if i could i would have
belted him--
but i knew she would
never give me his
address. i was really
starting to like her
we were both drunk
and ugly. a shallow
fresh faced blonde
personal trainer
then introduced
herself and began
making a move
on me. she talked
about me and her
in my bedroom
and nothing else:
it wasn’t much of
a choice really;
though then again,
i have never been
that strong:
always letting the
good ones get away.
Looking at a Dali print on my wall
on a Friday afternoon
there is a burning giraffe and a
faceless woman with drawers
for breasts and left leg
its winter though the sun shines
like early autumn
my portable fan keeping
the room cool
while society burns outside
like the giraffe
and I am free from its drawers
for a moment:
solitude now a victory--
my soul as warm as the sun.
HOSTAGE
i look at the walls
but they don’t care
neither does
the toaster
the picture frames
the microwave
or blinds--
i am all alone on this
tuesday autumn night
in my apartment in
sydney:
no longer trying to
dodge bullets,
just trying not to bleed
too much
and give away another victory.
TEARS OR FUN
she was beautiful
though i’d never seen
a woman drink as
much as her,
it was actually quite
appealing watching her
throw back all those
stuffed glasses
the problem was the
effect it had on her:
the alcohol took away
all her beauty:
she then told me
she was raped by
her uncle as
a child--
this really made me mad,
mostly considering the
age she was when it
happened;
if i could i would have
belted him--
but i knew she would
never give me his
address. i was really
starting to like her
we were both drunk
and ugly. a shallow
fresh faced blonde
personal trainer
then introduced
herself and began
making a move
on me. she talked
about me and her
in my bedroom
and nothing else:
it wasn’t much of
a choice really;
though then again,
i have never been
that strong:
always letting the
good ones get away.
