(c) 2003
In this dream I
live with my ex in a houseboat.
The living room rocks at 90-degree angles;
my beer bottle rolling out of reach. It’s impossible
to keep my cigarette lit. Shark fins slash through shag
like the carpeting were waves. We argue,
which is familiar as bumping fenders
but our mooring is more than slack.
We pitch out to open sea. Storm clouds gather.
Waves pull up into tsunamis
and all the while he still bitches about his missing socks.
Son of a bitch, he can’t handle the smallest tragedies.
I’m not sure how the hell I got back here.
How many times have I already left?
The living room rocks at 90-degree angles;
my beer bottle rolling out of reach. It’s impossible
to keep my cigarette lit. Shark fins slash through shag
like the carpeting were waves. We argue,
which is familiar as bumping fenders
but our mooring is more than slack.
We pitch out to open sea. Storm clouds gather.
Waves pull up into tsunamis
and all the while he still bitches about his missing socks.
Son of a bitch, he can’t handle the smallest tragedies.
I’m not sure how the hell I got back here.
How many times have I already left?
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