1

Morning comes and we rise so vile

our spleens would burst

if we didn't empty them on traffic.

I go for breakfast and instead of working watch

old sci-fi movies on TV: The First Spaceship On Venus,

where there’s nothing but shadows,

and Voyage to the Prehistoric Planet,

where the dinosaurs live, 

and a robot named John calls his master’s name

as he dies.

She goes to work and I don’t ask why.

2

Some part of me is draining out of my ears

while I sleep, either I or she

is a witch; stealing her/my soul to crumble up

in my/her tea.

There’s a cold wind

that blows across the hairs of my neck

whenever she turns on primetime TV.

She’s taken to crying

whenever I crack a copy of Coleridge.

3

Afternoons after I’m done for the day I sneak

into a pinhole and think

of all the women I‘ve seen, the cars, the houses

I’ll never afford. People will watch me like a thief

if I go to the store for cake.

If some part of me is worth seeing,

you’ll have to dig under the sugar and cheese.

4

It takes a special concentration

to be allowed to enjoy a meal alone.

Strength is in the forehead.

A man can slit his belly open

with a rusty smile, if it means being right. Anything,

anything I’ll ever owe just to know quiet.

Anything I’ll ever be

to burn every trace of pride off me.