Five a.m. and I feel your spine against my lips.
We are naked and worried and we fell asleep high and oversexed
We forgot about brainstorming in the light of movie-script answers.

You said your childhood was miserable,
And nothing makes one more selfish,
Than a miserable childhood.

I've always called Hialeah a wasteland.

We are three point twenty-five billion people respectively,
We are baby-boomers and generation X,
We may be at fault..
We are playing golf the cheap way and I am horrible at it.
We are buying you khaki dress pants for work and you say you hate American designers
When I can't tell the difference.

Six a.m. and you say I talk in my sleep.
I mumble and whimper and sometimes I curse,
Or ask for friends who left weeks before,
Or accuse you of some deathly crime you're too frightened to deny
but you do not wake me up.

You called yourself ugly and
Nothing makes one more self-absorbed than
Achieving beauty three years too late.
You are CNN and NBC and Spike TV,
You are the composite of my original childhood fear of working in a cubicle,
You spend hours washing your car and five minutes pretending that you love me,
You are dirty-talk.

I've always called Hialeah a wasteland.

05/02/2007

Author's Note: An edit of the original, sans introduction, plus a few spell-checks and returns.

Posted on 05/02/2007
Copyright © 2024 Eli Skipp