17th

Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 | subtle juxtapositions

*wet grass sticks
to my bare ankles*
(a suburban idyll)
the scene after dinner;
all that red wine on the tablecloth,
& herself locked in the bathroom
…looking back, i could see that
as the sun crawled higher into the sky,
the whiskey in our glasses grew weaker
…it hid all afternoon in the shadows of our skulls,
like a cartoon lightening bolt,
staying out of the sun till night fell
…gathering its strength