okay, so i lied about no more poems until 2009. happy new year.
the radio is broke
the radio is broke
and the year is dying.
i am sitting here trying to fight
the urge to drink before 10 a.m.
and the radio is broke.
i was listening to nina simone
and the radio broke.
it started sputtering and skipping
and then it just gave out
like a final breath.
and it is snowing outside
the radio is broke
and it is snowing outside
i can’t hear nina simone
and the scotch in the other room is calling to me.
i can hear the neighbor’s
television set coming quietly
through the ceiling.
she is not playing nina simone
and the year is dying
and another one is breathing down
my neck
and i really don’t think i can handle it
another year
a broken stereo
the scotch
or going out to buy a bottle of wine
in the snow for another new year’s celebration.
and the radio is broke
but then it started sputtering
and spinning again
i can hear its digital click
i hear nina simone coming back to me.
then it kicks again and i groan.
the radio is broke
the year is dying
another one is bearing down
on our asses
and i’m sitting on a hard wooden chair
in this lonely bedroom
holding a vigil for you and i and everyone else
that always gets it cut too short.
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