After all the shock treatments

May 19, 2012

That Lovely Mystery

Sit down. First. Good news. You’re not dead. Yet. But all bets are against you. Lasting past the next hour.

Last breaths. Where does it all. Go. Like cold beer farts. And couches handed down by aunts.

I thought if I understood Hegel. You would make sense. But you are still that lovely mystery. I wish I could make you forget everything. With my tongue. But that time has passed.

My best friend is hanging. From the rafters. After all the shock treatments. And the group discussions. With the Russian mafia. All he’s got is his fingernails.

I’m standing in the corner of the evening. With my overcoat pulled tight around my neck. I’m cold. And distant. And waiting for the business hours to be over. So I can go home. And sleep with you again.

2 Responses to “After all the shock treatments”

  1. I like your prose here David and the image. Strange. Looking for my trench coat.

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