poem 24 – 2-1-15 – RED SOUP


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poem 24 – 2-1-15


his motive was unclear to me

his narrative was a laundry list

a compilation of karma’s toll

uttered from his staggering lips

the soup i would eventually pay for

sat there in front of him

it was red and hardly touched

i knew he was fucked up again

sedated on this sham of a diner date

junkies and their promises

go hand and hand

like we used to

never mind getting nostalgic

he’s just like a character dennis cooper would write up

thin, young and very confused

it was clear his stupid hair was greasy

so much so that a stranger would assume it was dressed in murray’s pomade

but i knew it was a product of his avoidance of washrooms

or at least the socially acceptable proper use of them

he was a low life

i don’t know why i held him in such high regard

he was a cliché at best

his jesus and mary chain t-shirt made visible

by his thrift store flannel with none of the buttons buttoned

i wondered what he was looking for with his wandering eyes

but really, i was looking for something in him with mine

yea, he was a cliché but what was i?

why did i agree to meet him?

i wouldn’t fuck him… not now.

not because i’m a some sort of moralist

i’m afraid of catching something

i’m sure he has to have something

now i just feel bad for him..

that’s funny isn’t it?

how those who have nothing

but their addiction have the undesirables

and become undesired themselves

i wonder why he wanted to see me

evidently it wasn’t a free meal

maybe a place to stay?

i can’t let him stay over..

i’d wake up and my computer would be missing

along with him

everything he did he did to the fullest

i guess this was just another one of those things

he nodded off and instead of waking him

i walked out of the diner

after paying

i’ll let the waiter, David wake him

he’ll probably give him a few free coffees

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