Sunday, June 12, 2011

One of the Ways We Were

Jealousy schooled her
with unrelenting lessons
which compelled my friend
to perceive false meaning
in spoken, written, imagined
words, gestures, departures,
growls, grunts, and smiles.

She and I would try
to outdrink her obsessions.
Enough Scotch would turn
us blowsy, irate, defiant,
heavy with bleak certainty
that all men should go to hell
and that we’d be dead by thirty.

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