You are late
always very late
Whether it's a Thursday
or Saturday night date.
So I sit upon the crate
(a makeshift dining chair)
and contemplate.
I think "oh shit, that's just great"
You have my most recent issue
of Slate.

So without entertainment I stew
and think of an imaginary mate.
Someone to soothe the hate
but I'm so horribly mind fucked
I can't seem to masturbate.

Thank you,
thank you very much
for not keeping in touch.
Picking up a fucken phone
so I wouldn't sit all alone.
Wondering if these shoes
match my dress
The one I wore to confess
what I did last Thursday
(when you were away)
with your best friend Ray.

Whose never late.

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