saturday night beer

there's a half finished conference paper

saved to my hard drive,

and all i can think about

is the days of smoking stolen cigars

as i walked the streets of youth

forming an idea for these

200 pounds of flesh.

the days before the drink corruptted

and our blood was sworn to

the tenants of righteousness.

i become a little less me each day...

 

oh, a beautiful girl

snuggled on the floor

munching on a loaf of bread.

i would tell her lies

and write poems to her eyes

when really it was her breasts

i worshipped at the alter.

two drunken fools embrace,

and everyone feels at least a little uncomfortable.

 

i wish i'd never kissed her

to hold that dream forever

of what it would be like,

the truth, no matter how wonderful,

could never pass my expecatations,

but this time I'll say it did.

the spring rain that fell--

the fountain of youth

we failed to capture.

in your pictures you're smiling,

and i won't show my teeth.

 

i'm still smoking pot in the bathroom,

picking my nose on the toilet,

staring off into the distance on my porch,

pretending to understand love,

and many other things idiots do

to occupy the time.

"maybe it was something he lost"

if only one word could sum up a man's life,

i'd like mine to be failure.

go ahead, etch that into my tombstone.

put it somewhere the sun never shines

so no one will ever read it

and when strangers pass by

they'll see just another empty tomb.