Monday, September 21, 2009

Desperation Song

1.

driving home with no radio
static screaming in your skull
black moonlight shining through
the windshield, you think
about the pills
you'll crush
and snort
when you get home, the pills
that are supposed to
help you -- there's always something
helping you towards
the finish line; the existential loneliness
of the alcohol in the
glass next to you, the baleful
boredom of the woods
you keep driving through,
trying hard not to steer into
the biggest oak you can find, the
family that can't say no.

there are
so many
stars tonight.

you want to be like that
-- cold, distant light.

2.

the tv sits unused in your apartment;
your heart
sits unused in your chest,
frozen like
a Michigan lake in winter -- you've never
seen a Michigan lake, let alone
in winter.

her picture
is turned down; everything makes
you tired now, life is full
of exhausting efforts, this
poem is tired of you,
your dog doesn't come when
you call him, the phone
is dead.

to sleep
forever in a bath
of cold darkness, of
cold stars. outside, the snow
keeps falling.

3.

you make a list
of all the things that have gone right
and start crying because
your drinking alone on
a Tuesday, watching static
on the tv and listening to Elton John
sing, "I Want Love."

you make a list
of all the things that have gone
horribly, horribly awry and laugh
because you know this
is how the night will end
for the next two weeks -- pushing
the light to the edges
and falling into bed, bottles
of pills and liquor
where an alarm clock
should be.

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