The Pain
the pain
she screams at
I don’t know whom
on the phone because
she is out of gas again
and I wish she would
just crash at home so we
can deal with the gas money
situation tomorrow but
she is on her own life trip
and I am outside the frosted
window watching through cracks
in the spider web. My sinuses
are wracked by something that
tastes like spackling, I am
under glass, harassed by
men in black who fired
muskets upon debarking
from the aluminum flying
saucer, or on the
astro-turf of the strip
mall in a false place
and she has left.
She is not coming home
tonight.
And I am out
of my mind.