Night plea

Fuck you and your complaining
at the frosted glass

The derided mop still soaked
with last night’s dark water

A vestibule that smells
like an artificial beach

lifted without asking
from the nightmare
of a fisherman

Lost at sea somewhere

Or maybe the poster
of a race car tacked
crooked on the back wall
of the pool hall

I am getting drunk tonight
because my sadness
would subside

if I denied it

it’s like a fire

almost

burning in the woods
and all that dark

is just the absence

of a tingling
sensation

that reminds me I’m
connected to
the rest of you

I don’t want to convince
the world of anything

but if you want to
you can hang out
in the corner

and if you notice something
interesting
I’ll hear you

even if it isn’t valuable