V
2006-01-01 9:41 p.m.
sick, crawlone foot by two feet into
the grave, slow and steady,
you know,
wins this race.
an instant, his voice
cracked
across the signals, one wire for connection
two for deciding,
i have left the phone to ring
of its own accord
goodbye and goodbye to friendship, to betrayals
long extended
past their points, to encompass, this one scream
that he left me, to tear. to tear.
and i am all eyes open, listening
to car doors in the street, waiting
for his second coming
prepared, dear god,
prepared.