Aftermath

(I return to Cathleen’s.)

Where were you?

Got looped, didn’t want to drive drunk, stayed the night, slept all day, stayed to sober up, eat and take a little hair of the dog . . . to make me fit to be with.

What kept you from calling?

This black woman with Afro instead of her usual dreadlocks, or so she claims.

Are you fucking serious?

I’m through with fucking . . . that is, with anyone but you.

I don’t know why you lie except to keep going to bed with me.

You are the best I ever knew.

What about Paula?

I don’t need to make myself any sicker than I am now,
do I?

(Wait a little, have a few drinks,
be well oiled when the fight starts.)

(21 June, 11 July 2012)

copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander