Chores
watched the wine glass,
become an ashtray
a conversation with naked space,
kept stampless stationary tucked deep in the drawer
scenes from the past bolded themselves,
spelling out cursive jive I’d forgotten how to decode
fortunately, or maybe unfortunately,
this introspective rant became a fishing expedition without bait
got into Indian style on that mattress,
preyed out loud without yelling
vague shadows appeared along the wall,
I was digging for anything at this point
believing in commercials all of a sudden,
caused me to feel lonelier than I really was
wrote out my Shit To Do List,
realizing that none of my chores involved her anymore
I’d have to find a new dragon to chase,
preferably one with clipped wings this time around
By: Bryan Matthew Boutwell / LiveFiction.net
