Life, friends, is boring. We tell it to each other daily.
The staccato signals and pixels bouncing into all those
heavy dilated eyes only remind us of our disappearing
'inner resources.' And it's all a drag. Inter-office
memos, statuses (stati?) and your late night video
journal about cats and the family you've never had
(but could have; damn the cats), these bore me,
the cheap bite of Canadian whiskey bores me,
the luster of your grandfather's pocketwatch
on your faux-oak dresser has dulled.
And the disordered woman through the wall coughs
on the hour, and she breathes me out
with the phlegm and spittle.
No comments:
Post a Comment