poem of the day 03.23.10

broken toe

the streets are flooding rivers
and the trees come down
like junkies
the people are like statues
and the birds are boiling
in their new nests
while you make rings
on the coffee table with scotch
and wine glasses
while you cry over the past
and pull at your shirt
while you stagger around
drunk for the last time
kicking at your boots so hard
you just know that second toe
on the left foot is broken
if it isn’t
it’ll hurt like a mother for a week or longer
but it won’t matter to you
because the sky is the color of car exhaust
and you’re finally happy
you have a perfect lack of ambition
and the noise through
the walls is like a symphony
tomorrow could be a paradise or a hell
they are the same thing
there is still enough to drink
there are still enough tears
there are enough poets to kill us all
the sound of the burning birds
is like an angel’s wail
the pain has not yet reached your brain
tomorrow you will wake before dawn
to send out more nonsense
then you’ll limp along the pavement
heading for the gallows and the noose
hoping for a cheap place
to get a cup of coffee
and somewhere far enough away
from the middle school
where you can vomit
in someone’s trash can
and call all of these years even.