I am sitting with a beer and trying
to think of a word
because that’s what I do;
think about
how they court and marry
and argue, slap each other’s
faces across tables
and then court
and marry others;
how they swim in blood
reddening
and then disappear
until they are needed again;
there are words
used and then used again
until they lose meaning
amid their disuse — spent down
to pocket change;
there they sit in
the lint until I decide
to wipe them clean and use them
on cigarettes or
cheap candy or
hoard them in a neat pile
toward what end — who knows,
they might end up here
or somewhere else;
who knows?
Someone else can try them
if they like — they can leave me
and go on, maybe for
a better place,
some comfort to stay in,
somewhere to call home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T