Monday, November 13, 2006

you see they are my tears

you see they are my tears

on this surface
I see small circles of salt water
on this table
is clutter
scribbles of names
my eyeglass prescription
on this table is a note
about a poetry date
I must keep
hotel reservation in Cambridge
in December
I can't fuck this up
on this table are my broken pills
I grasp them with my swollen fingers
one falls under the bed
christ, four dollar pills
I go after them on bended knee
there is a world under my bed
large gray Kansas dust balls
and books I have promised myself to read
I am on my knees praying I can find the pill
while back on the table a rustling sound commences
my fan catches all grocery receipts
spins them into the dusty air
I am on my knees crying out to christ
while on the table the salty pools crystalize