I called the suicide hotline;
they put me on hold.
As Mother was so fond of noting,
Son, Sometimes You Just Gotta Say
Blow me.
I am not saying I was drunk
but I was ready to screw
my dog and walk my girlfriend.
Not sure
she wanted to get married
but she was always carrying
twigs and mud in her mouth.
I need to look farther ahead,
beyond the beginning of
tomorrow.
Farther, further?
And then I fell asleep
and dreamt about
about all the other lies
she’s told and I dreamt about
the lies
she might yet tell.
I awoke before dawn
and she sent me home.
Long after I stopped seeing her
I was still setting fires
with souvenir matches
I had collected at the fancy places
we went back when
we were still in love.
She used to call me
her fuzzy whisker biscuit.
Rita Mae Brown said,
Friendship Is Love Made Bearable.
Lovely Rita is a lesbian.
What The Fuck.