All the Way to the Dump and it’s Only Tuesday

How’s Your Tuesday Going?

I open one eye
the other has fallen behind.
In fact, it may not get up today at all
and I would be forced to wear a patch
or explain why it is that I look like
I’m having a continuous stroke:
“Oh my eye? No, it’s not lazy or reluctant.
It’s dead.

That’s okay. Things pass.
Would you like some salsa?”

Dates would be awkward
because if there is anything wrong with your eyes
it’s because you stare at porn and small children
who also stare at porn.

The one eye that I have opened
has landed on an empty wine bottle
that glares back at me accusingly
like it’s my fault.
Wait, I took a wine bottle to bed?
Jesus, what does that mean?
That I had to bring it just in case
I couldn’t make it upstairs and to my bed
without having a drink?

That speaks…

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