It was late. Her light was the only light
That could be seen from the street below.
I held a bouquet of roses, standing
in her doorway, a useless grin on my face.
She smiled sympathetically
And looked away.

Last night I drank until my head
Roared with black thunder.
I staggered home, feeling lost.
Two dogs whispered gossip to each other.
Somewhere sirens wailed like ghosts.
I laid down on my floor
And watched the ceiling fan spin
When it wasnʹt on.

When the days pile up, like neglected dishes
In the sink. I start to panic,
Lost in the dark rooms of my imagination.
She sounds very bored when we talk.
Every smile a secret sneer.
My brain whirls like a table‐saw.