Bed Spread Dresses

endings, always endings.

 Bed Spread Dresses

 

The broken lock on your

suitcase is causing the

bed spread dresses

of thrift store clothing

to spill on the ground,

like blood from

the bullet hole I just yelled

into the side of your face

on this f*****g St Mark’s

Saturday night—

 

This

actor’s nightmare

Where the only lines

I can remember

Are the ones from a play

We both did in

Phoenix—

 

“Remember?

you were playing that part

where you fucked the

assistant director and I was

playing a drunk

that couldn’t pay attention.”

 

“Oh, yes,” you say,

I f*****g well remember

that play,

you’re still playing the drunk

I’m still playing

that actress because

every f*****g time

I come to NY f*****g

city to see you

in a play—I always

end up f*****g someone,

 

someone that I don’t even know,

 

or getting fucked by you--

you always end up the drunk

not paying attention—

It’s a bloody f*****g

mess I tell you—

put that in yer’ book,

put that in yer’ mother f*****g play,

put that in yer’ sack for a suitcase full of lies.”

 

I stop and stare at you.

When you cry its soft.

When you cry its like someone just fell off

the end of the earth.

When you cry its soft.

 

Goddammit.

Goddamn this f*****g scene.

Goddamn this f*****g play.

Goddamn those f*****g people with lives.

 

Your eyes afraid of me

sudden headlights

of a taxi cab,

my bravado

my stellar

performance tonight

In NYC  a f*****g fraud—

 

you aren’t apart

 

of this,

you can’t be a part of

this f*****g damage that

I insist on inflicting,

The pounding of this

cut steel hammer

of history you didn’t make.

 

I slack at the feelings--

working through

The rounds of Irish whiskey

like a boxer with bitter luck--

Falling to my knees

Falling to the ground

Sabotaging all the angels floating

together

in the great somewhere.

 

Which one is this, I think?

I don’t remember

grabbing the number.

I don’t remember

hearing the voice repeat itself.

I don’t remember

when you came and when

you where gone.

I do remember you though.

I do remember you though.

The blood I left on the ground

in front of a hundred lounges.

The broken promises,

The broken backs of books

That kept you—

early riser,

early thinker,

early exit,

longer than most—

 

longer than most. 

 

 

 

.