Monday, June 25, 2012

times we never have anything to do with each other.


i will listen to songs by unknown people singing songs
about unknown places, in love with unknown people
while you'd be making movies in studios, and
watching art films, and talking about existentialist cinema.
my poetry will have words that are mono, bi syllabic--
four maybe, if gets too deep.
your poetry will about breaking tea cups, and
sunlit hungover mornings after; and anger. 
my poetry will have words that are mono, bi syllabic--
four maybe, if gets too deep.
on most sundays, i will wake up in my bed hungover
bruised from hitting against the various pieces 
of furniture in the room-- which is an awful feeling actually.
you will turn to your beautiful wife, lying next to you
kiss her ever so nicely, look out the french window
and sigh at the beauty you there.
i will sit in a room in some godforsaken town, 
where the phone lines betray me all the time,
and think of all the places i haven't been.
you, will be on your way to the airport
to board a flight to that country, 
where i should have been born.
you will call me when you are drunk and
say that you miss me, and that you wish
oh! if only i'd been there, with you, the rum
the moon-less night screaming with drunken joy.
easy come and easy go, next evening i call you
you will say that you will call me back
disconnect the line and forget about that phone call
because the music's really good in the pub.


i could say more and point out the ways in which
our lives have become so different. but i wont
because i am tired. in ways you dont know.
but mostly, mostly because now we no longer
have anything to do with each other.


No comments:

Post a Comment

blabberings