November 10, 2007
By Jenny Pinther, Duluth, MN

under the cork you call you disguise.
I watch a tilt of perception
go right through my hands
and I wonder how many times
this has happened.
the next thing I know
you grab me
and I know there's something
I'm so dizzy I can't even lie down
without having to close my eyes--
or else I'd see the world
collapsing on me
and my shoulders.
And again I wonder
how many times this has happened
to you.
remember the time
you breathed I'll never know you?
then you passed out

on my living room floor
your cork
I wonder how many notes
have been thumbtacked to your face,
how many labels
you've had to remove

how long have we been buddies...
I hold your waist
and give you and awkward kiss
it's times like these
your bitterness
is forgotten,
and your numbing is all I desire.

You are still standing tonight,
so far,
but you're slow as hell
and quiet as a train wreck on Sunday,
we both step close,
and I think
until tonight I've just watched
now I'm
just like you--
I stumble and now
I pass out against the dusty old mirror
and now we're both in pieces.

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