Bone Structure By Ron Pope
Playing scratch offs with the pull tab of a tallboy on your front steps.
Helicopters dancing over us, retreat inside.
Then we both got sick from the window of a taxi,
The driver didn’t mind, so we laughed in the backseat.
In the morning you asked if I took you to bed,
I said, “When I do, you’ll remember it.”
Your bone structure was more striking to me than all your lack of empathy.
Your bone structure made it so I couldn’t see you were indifferent to me.
This coffee’s too strong, I am shaking,
I guess that’s why I still come here.
You are day drunk, my salvation, whistling “I’m On Fire.”
We share a twelve dollar bottle of brandy in the parking lot
Behind a dumpster so everybody else can
Pretend that they don’t notice and we all can eat our breakfast in peace.
You spit champagne through your front teeth, slap my face and laugh like a
lunatic in a movie. You cut right through me, come out on the other side.
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