poem of the day 10.19.10

the chinese girls

the chinese girls
are sitting in a circle, talking
i do not understand a word of it
but i know that it is idle chatter
about television and school and music
it is bothering me
the way the chinese girls talk
high-pitched staccato
words spat out of tiny mouths
like dull darts
some days human words hurt the mind
in any language
they do not mix with my hangover
my acid stomach
nor my resolve to stop drinking
for a month
the chinese girls do not know this
about my not drinking
if i told them
they would think me a madman
or worse they wouldn’t care
so i sit there listening
another lukewarm work dinner
in stained tupperware
reading a book that i’ve read
dozens of times
wondering how in the hell
i’m going to make it thirty days
without a drink
with the job on my back
with devils and angels
screeching for my soul
with the scotch and wine bottles
waiting in the fridge
and the neighbors talking
nightly bullshit in front of my window
with the chinese girls laughing
over pop stars, cheez doodles
and the boys in gym class
looking so happy
they don’t even know
how much they are murdering me
on this pale monday afternoon.