i should be cuddled beneath
that handsome man i've loved
for thirty-seven years
but here i am
trying to figure out
what the hell
all these words mean
and where they come from
this time of morning
here i sit
trying to fathom why i sit here
sleepy-eyed and tired
damn
i hate hearing locomotive engines
they echo with such strength
when indigo skies prance
and stars dance like crystal earrings
at a cabaret
if i sit in this warm-ass
leather seat and write
about what happens
in the room next door
that might just light the fire
inside my loins enough
to send me hustling
in there to attack his hairy ass
get what i got coming
the only fornicating i'll be doing
in these wee hours
is with lines on this screen
he's in there snoring perfusely
it's frightening
and i gotta pee
then, get more ice-coffee
that train on mccraken
has to be headed somewhere great
the driver is tooting that whistle frantically
wonder if something's on the tracks
what the fuck
was that a crash i just heard
never could get a ride home from school
living on this side of the tracks
Adding your comment:
Jeez... I wonder how many of us write this much at midnight... Write on, love and good luck.
