sitting on his front porch.
there's a white bandage around
his head
protecting his blood caked ear.
he looks more haggard
than usual.
his hands are covered in oil paints.
bright blues and yellows.
hey Vince, i say to him, going
over to sit down.
are you okay?
he pulls the bandage back
to show me
his half carved ear.
what the hell i say.
you can't let these women
get to you like that.
it's not worth it.
maybe you should quit
that online dating site.
crazychicks.com.
i quit last week. personally
i'm done with the nut cakes.
have you ever thought of meet ups?
hikes and movies,
you do things in a group
with people who have similar
interests, like cooking,
or bird watching.
he looks at me and shakes his
head, then spits some blood out
onto the sidewalk
it splatters a small bird
that's pulling on a worm.
yeah. i know, i say to him.
i know.
he pulls a pint of what looks
like gin
from his raggedy coat,
then takes a sip before handing
me the bottle.
it tastes like turpentine.
it is turpentine.
women, he says,
rubbing his ear.
i cough and gag as i swallow
the drink,
and repeat after him,
yup, women. give me another
swig of that.
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