day #---

the kind of morning
where i can’t get the temperature
of the shower right
and every other step i take
down the sidewalk
is a stumble

and i say to myself
this is going to be
one of those days,
an exhausting pageantry
of hours,
whittling myself to a sharp point
& by the time i’m drunk,
jabbing at anyone
who comes close enough

and my friend says
i drive people away,
says through a froth of drunk
and pot,
and later we sit
on his couch,
like a couple of knives
rasping in a drawer.
by the end of it
we have dulled each other
and the window is repainting itself
with a fragile blue

& the birds are
going apeshit in the trees -