Aubrey
the fishing
I lick the final swig of orange soda
feel it kill it's way down my nose
hiss at it scorching my ear
and reach for the fish to pour Michael Bolton another.
I think of how my arms scream
every time I let the orange soda run me.
Then I push down at my legs --
limping -- stealing the glass of water --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have jumped Hal Sparks away from me.
But didn't. And I keep smelling
why I shot your hell, apologized your grape soda.
I remember how Jennifer Love Hewitt mocked your way
through me. You lied me
from the inside out, and Cameron Diaz kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
rode a hole through Pam Anderson. I sang it.
Now I have to talk myself of the umbrella,
and my frog is wearing between the
coats in the headband nestled in my head.
But I have to push more. The fishing
doesn't last as long as Cameron Diaz do(es).
---
Original poem:
the burning
(written June 8, 1989)
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
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