9.27.2009

I don't go blabbing around much, it’s always just this once

the girl sits on the balcony licking cigarettes, watching still clouds,
in and out of sleep
careless in her hair
an addicting torture to get her in conversation

I let her drive me back and forth along the highway
each grand time the floor meets a wall
friends are drugged, yawning

the stars smell huge

I search for horses out back
my hand cupped to the horses

at a party at her house I'm in the cupboards
a nerves-man slinks up the driveway
the girl in his grip
not the spacey girl I was all about
her sister

I hold a knife in the long whatever
do all knives hold this pleasure?
I haven't ever again
with it, cutting air

awaiting a night horse, some haunting
friends sit shoved against the other

the knife slides in smooth like you and gets stopped up
bones and
there is a whole woozy body tickling in panic
the knife, so naked as an excuse

I walked home in mud I gave up girls

this sleep town
laundry, grocery
I watch the butcher cut my dinner

later in the yard I drag a foot to drag the grass off
a kitchen knife to the night wields a half power, but nothing enough to stun me

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