Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Flirting with the Vaccine Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Tuesday 10/31/2006 11:31:00 PM

Every week without fail we drive to the supermarket. To scoff at overripe melons. And finger slices of yellow at the deli. So many different varieties of cheese. I can never remember which ones I like. So she tells me to risk it. $3.00 for a quarter pound of discovery. Bankruptcy is measured more by what you keep than what you spend.

Maybe. Just maybe. You don't even need a sandwich. That same tired lunch I always have. Cutting the bread in half. Who eats half a sandwich anyway? There is permission in starvation.

To gorge.

We spend so much time shopping for poison. Wondering why the cure doesn't return our calls.


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