This Then
it’s the same as before
Or the other time
Or the time before that.
Here’s a cock
And here’s a cunt
And here’s trouble.
Only each time
You think
Well now I’ve learned:
I’ll let her do that
And I’ll do this,
I no longer want it all,
Just some comfort
And some sex
And only a minor
Love.
Now I’m waiting again
And the years run thin.
I have my radio
And the kitchen walls
Are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
And listening
For footsteps.
I hope that death contains
Less than this.