- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Ending
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I stayed later than I should have.
It is this fact that I must accept.
I gave you the opportunity to
kick me out of your sanctuary of misery.
I talked too much about religion,
or maybe it was my using the word
"fucked" in reference to your life.
But there I was, standing outside
your door, outside your life.
I knew this was how any decent Russian
author would have ended the tale.
One burned out and unhappy
man and his worshipping wood nymph
with a nose for popular culture,
clinging to their pessimism.
Two shriveling people, smelling of rot
sinking into the bowels of mediocrity,
And so in the black Indian summer night,
this is the scent I carried as I crawled away.
