It throbs in my mouth tonight
like a jealousy, like a thwarted hate.
As the deep reeks beyond the window
on a saturdaynight of cold,
of hot rum and warm wine
sinking to the bottom, pitched always
above my head.
Where do you sit tonight,
in a crusty bar on the shoulder of a street
with nowhere lights and somewhere people
and anywhere drinks?
I sit here in everywhere pain,
my teeth jerked from the roots
like stubborn potatoes,
and now the bedding rings with missing,
thrusting with hurt until the walls
press their fingers on my temples,
and their toes down my throat.
Waiting, thirsting for a faraway place of grime,
for a drink thick and bitter as oil,
for a person young and lost.
