not enough

the bulb burned out
right in the middle of
a sentence.
i was still talking, lady.
it wasn’t fair.

i bought replacements
a long time ago.
so i rescued them from the
hall closet and
screwed one in, snapped
you back over your
modern-day candle.

my smoke was still smoking
my glass was half full
i plugged you in and
pop!
a bad bulb.

could’ve taken it for a sign
but then
i never know when to quit
it’s why they all
give up on me.

i shuffled
down the hall
with the fumes
in my head
burped some acid
alcohol
and got three more bulbs.

ripped the plastic open
and screwed another one in
bit my lip so hard
i tasted iron.
plugged you in
and held my breath
and you lit up
like you’d never left.

my lady, our lady
if i can get another bulb
and another,
how about you
throw me a bone?

but every time
i take another drink
my lip, it stings
and i watch your smile.

as usual
you keep your mouth
shut.

stop.
there’s no point.
quit driving past
quit staring so hard
it burns a hole in my ribs.

you and me
were never real,
because you built that
castle
on sand untruths.

i thought you were a man
but mine
was an honest
mistake.

so stop.
quit showing up at my
door
with another hard-luck
story.

i believed you
the first fifty times
now i just listen
to you whine
on the other side
of my new locks.

i keep the phone handy
and the bottle handier.

go away.
at least the liquor
is honest
about meaning me
no good.

i had it.

a perfect poem.

but there was life.

there was the job
the errands
the cleaning up
the business of
going on
and on

and by the time
i got around
to it

everything evaporated.

can’t even remember
the keyword.

god and virgin
why cover up
the essential
with so much crap?

i know there’s
always more
hiding
inside my bones.

but i wanted that
one.

and i resent it
so badly
i could murder.
but who?

so i sit here
take another drag
let the smoke out
and write this
for you.

don’t wait.
grab it

when it comes.

you’re thinking
about me.

stop it.

stop driving by
my building.
i don’t look
and i don’t notice.

stop asking
my friends.
they don’t know
they can’t tell you.

stop thinking
buzzing
like that
tiny bone
in my ear.

i can’t feel it
i don’t like it
i won’t listen
i haven’t forgotten
and no

i will not

come to the door.

no call.
no letter.

just a pack of smokes
the burn deep in
my lungs, and the
bottle.

i guess i’ve vanished
or you never saw me
or you never think of me
or you ignore me.

at least the booze
is always here.

funny, but i don’t
even drink. i just
pour a shot. when
i’m done thinking
about how it
hurts,
i dump it in the sink
where it won’t hurt me.

and i light another smoke.

hey, nobody’s perfect.

dear virgin,
let’s talk.

you’re a bulb and
a plastic shield. how
do you smile even
when you’re unplugged?

i want to go
to church.
but
god, that bastard
will hit me
if i cross
the threshold.

besides
they don’t open churches
at one a.m. here
in the cold.

so i stay at home
light another smoke
take another swallow
the whiskey burns
its way down.

and i talk to you.

they say you hear
all the cries
of the world.

they say you are
mercy itself.

so tell me
why can’t you be
the one in charge?
the last thing
we need
between stars exploding
with nuclear force
and everything eating
everything else
down here
is more violence.

was there
a corporate takeover?
do you look at the
direction he’s taken
the company in
and cringe
while you listen to our
screaming?

senora, my lady, virgin, please
please

find some balls
and fix some things
down here.

i’ll stay here
all night
with the bottle
and the ashtray
and the haze
in the air
if it will make you
do it.

when
do you stop loving
and start making sure
they can’t hurt you
anymore?

i used to think
love was endless
and if i just
did it hard enough
everything would
turn out.

now i know
better.

there’s no way
other than
putting up
the barricades.

so if you need me
i’ll be in my foxhole.

identify yourself.
because i will shoot.

i couldn’t
love you hard enough
to help you
love yourself.

you were determined
to turn into them,
those people
you said you hated.

i tried my best. i
loved you like a hurricane
i loved you
like a rock. i took
each hurdle the way
a horse jumps,
committed fully.

but now
i balk.

you have
lied
cheated
stolen the things i would have given gladly.
you have thrown away
the best fucking
thing
that ever happened
to you.

yeah.
hope that was
what you wanted.
i hope
you got
what you needed.

if you wanted
to break every
shred of love
i felt for you

congratulations.
you’re a success.

don’t.

don’t touch me.

i’m not going to break
i’m not afraid for me.

it’s the sharp edges
where things were
ripped out of me
that you’re going
to cut yourself on.

you don’t have
any insulation.

don’t come near.

i got a head full
of gas fumes
and you’re a spark.

go away

just go away.

why won’t you go?

dear virgin,

you’re still
smiling. still
calm, and
blue-robed
and still
immaculata.

you’re
still
a nightlight.

i am still unable
to sleep
even though
my eyes are deserts
and my back, well,
and then there’s
my heart.

work was
work, screaming
kids and
jumpy mothers
and men
yeah, men
who piss on the sides
of toilet seats.

but i’m home.
four walls,
and you. i
tried to eat
but it was too dark
and then you
were the only thing
holding back
black curtains.

every time i
light another
smoke the shadows jump.
they have
shinydark teeth.

at least you’re
keeping the
werewolves out.

for five ninety nine
and a replacement bulb
that’s pretty good.

you’re not talking tonight.
it’s okay.

i’ve got enough to say
for both of us.

oh nuestra senora
my lady
please
just keep listening.