Saturday 3/31/2007 12:49:00 AM

Pulling out another eyelash she checks the mirror to assess the symmetry of her vision. Imagining how different things would look had she worn different clothes. Selected different partners. Applied more mascara.

Little raindrops of sober tapping on the window with a calm regret. Like the pant of dogs left without the windows open while master shops for loose fit jeans.

In my experience they're all loose fit since 1990. Weary pilgrims landing on the plymouth of my hips. Naive enough to think somewhere else could make them different. Trying to remember the pain. Tattered coloring books half filled in. Like the shirts she never wears. Because they don't mean anything to her now.

The pencil of the stairway tracing her in a lurching stare. Looking down As she redraws the maps she made only moments before.

The moral of the story being you're an addict from the moment you let yourself love someone.

2 comments:
scoots said...

"you're an addict from the moment you let yourself love someone"

How true..

alcoholic poet said...

drugs, be they science or metaphor are what make us human. Or at the very least, remind us of our humanity.



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