As I cut out the buttons
You had stitched to my vest
With the scissors of a Swiss-army-knife.
Then I throw them away
Along with the Kashmir scarf
You gave me after I teased about the weather.
I sift through a suit case
And find a hemp bracelet
That you’d made for me so long ago.
I fold and twist it to a wick
And light it with anticipation
Because I then use it to brighten-up a Lucky.
I toss the bracelet in the tray
And let it burn through and through
While I wonder where the moon had gone.
Back in the suit case
I find a box with my name
Written the way you used to do.
It was full of pictures
Which cost more than I remember
Because you insisted on every size and frame.
Of course I gave in,
Your kisses struck like sweet lightning
And your hips swung like an insane fire-whirl.
But the storm had passed,
All that was left was debris
And I threw the pictures away.
I get up, get out
And walk on down
The block in hopes it’s not too late.
I walk in, walk about
Till I find that familiar looking wall
I stare at like I’m looking out through prison bars.
That sweet bourbon
Finally looked as good
As your legs sticking out of that red skirt.
I don’t put a price on hate
But the corner store sure does: