I PLAYED MY PART

last time this year i splurged
and bought chicken wings
bought an eight ball (in two
installments) put a guy who
touched my girl in a headlock
and had the opportunity to
use the knife i carried
(carry) around for
theatrics and over
a decade of man boy
decrepit eyed ideations
of love.

when i should have been
writing a play about woody
Guthrie i was scampering
about trying to get a deposit
back for an apartment that
had a sad air to it for
my girl and the pawn shops
were a blessing.

it was a new world. so i fought
for it. i had made my transition
from page to waking life.

tonight,
the punk thunk romantic remains
but
i don’t like the way this poem
feels.

so i’m going to stop.