poem of the day 11.02.09

making out

i’m drunk again
i have my shoes on
and a dirty wine stained
t-shirt.
i’m doing this thing now
where
if assholes linger too long
on the street
with the bass going
in their cars
i go outside and tell them
to shut it
the fuck off.

i’ve only tried it once
and the guy drove away
as soon as i approached his car.

this must be how the young man
becomes the old man, i think.
how the world begins
to pass you by.

and tonight
they are at it again
a couple lingering
across the street
against a big, black s.u.v.
with rap playing.
i’ve had i don’t know
how many scotches
and the giants lost again
for the third time straight.

what are you doing? my wife asks.

“i’m handling these motherfuckers,”
i tell her.

“but you’re in your underwear
and you have boots on.”

“i don’t care.”

“it’s almost midnight.”

“something has to be done.”

“why don’t you come back and sit
with me on the couch. let’s finish these
drinks and go to bed,” she says.

“after,” i say.

i look outside the window again.
it is a blonde with no ass
and some prick with his hat on backwards.
they are leaning up against the s.u.v.
kissing.

“christ,” i say. “they’re making out.”

“good,” my wife says, slugging down
her drink. “at least somebody in the world
is making out tonight.”