he came out of her,
he’s back to her.
instead of giving him the tit,
she’ll be making macaroni with meat sauce,
and asking what his plans are now.
he’s back to brushing his teeth
in her kitchen sink while she’s asking
what his plans are now.
of course she’s talking macro picture.
he’s not.
he’s capping the toothpaste,
he’s opening the screen-door,
pending divorce, living at mom’s,
pretending to be proud, he walks to the bar,
thinking about shots and last words.
There isn't a mission. There isn't a goal. It's just words on fake paper, sliding and tripping and flowing all over the place, because we're all full up on words in here and there is no way we can keep them inside. Like Tony says, "Nothing in here is true."
Thursday, April 13, 2006
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