Bed-Sitting Room

By | 1 July 1998

I’m sitting in a dingy room,
with a woman I don’t love
eating take-away pizza
and I want to tell the world
that she knows I hate anchovies.

She tells me that all writers
are losers wearing their hearts
on their sleeves and how proud
she is of her son who’s in jail
for murder how he’s going down
swinging and then she squats on the floor,
pisses into a green Tupperware container
serial number 387. JJ KK M.O.P. 382.

I look around the room and see
second hand feathers on the bed,
red plastic roses with blue stems,
and shining in the moonlight
one gold and black vibrator,
serial number F.A.D. 8564.006
And I want to tell the world
that the following morning
I got the hell out of her room.

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