Monday, July 26, 2021

From the Grave, or: Too many zombies

Pop pop

Little popping sounds of  rain on my windowsill

Keep me company

Along with Otis.

 

Otis takes care of me when Zelda is away.

His face is very demonstrative

When I’m being stupid his mouth turns down and his eyes are cold

When I use my brain to better advantage he grins

It took me ages to realize that one side of his china face goes down and the other up

Which is a blessing because now

Depending on my mood

 I can turn him and receive

Confirmation.

 

Zelda has been gone about a year.

She left to avoid watching me slowly pass away it’s

Not like her to give up but I was immoveable

On the barstool

A feast of agony

Gorging on pain

Awash in cocktail seas

I ate nothing but salt and

Drank nothing but whiskey

For days, or was it months?

And still I berate my fate as though she were here to listen

As though the bar were still open

As though I were still alive.

 

 

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