deepundergroundpoetry.com
lonely grave
some stories should never be told, yet I tell
them, journalizing these morbid passion plays
shamelessly. maybe that makes me an outlaw poet;
I could dig that.
the first time I met her, I was in the bar’s back alley,
gut sick & trembling. her words ambushed me like a
blackjack’s kiss. ‘you oughta seriously consider giving
up the juice, dude.’
what? she was a stranger, she didn’t know my life! I
might’ve said some impolite things, but she hung around
anyway. brought me coffee from the bar, & held it for me
as I drank. ‘what are you, an angel?’ I asked. she kinda
half-smiled. ‘call me Anne.’
a few evenings later I went to the diner for a steamy mug
& a pepper & egg sub. after I ordered, I spotted her at a
far corner table, with her head down, & I walked over.
‘hey,’ I said. she glanced up at me without focusing. she
rubbed her nose & sniffled, so I right away knew her dirty
addiction.
‘fuck!’ I glared at her. ‘you bitch at me for drinking, & you
do junk?!’ ‘fuck off, man,’ she mumbled. I got my hot coffee
& flooded her throat with it, not sure if it would help. a couple
cops gave me the eagle-eye as I picked her up roughly.
‘she’s my sister,’ I lied. they musta figured we were two tramps
not worth the paperwork, so they let us walk out.
it went like that, us looking out for each other. when I was
drunk, she was straight. conversely, when I was sober enough,
she was stoned. almost like the Sky Rider planned it that way;
you know, the one nobody believes in.
one night, we were both pretty hazy, so we lay together on my
bed. not for sex, it was never like that. we were two lost, lonely
orphans, desperately in need of comforting. I dozed off quick,
as the hobo moon rode a slow freight to the other side of town.
when I came to much later, Anne was very still, & very cold. she
was gone, she had passed during the night. I knew for certain
that the angels had come in the quiet hours & carried her
spirit to the glory she never found in this unkind place.
I just hoped she kissed me before she left…
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 24
reading list entries 5
comments 16
reads 1743
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.