I wanted to sit with you in the dark stillness this evening
but I decided to get Chinese food.
I spend more time checking my email
than I do talking to you.
The season is beginning to wear on me--
instead of drinking I take naps. Every day.
My shadows--my sheets--have been chased away like grouse
by compact fluorescents claiming to be the sun.
There is nowhere to cry. But even in the darkness
my tears are like kidney stones--
craving the pain of birth
like an infected placenta.
I was going to joke that my face got a vasectomy,
but there's no climax (not even a dry one) to indulge in.
December is tying up its loose ends;
January is looking like an listless civil servant.
We've been married for almost ten years now--
isn't this how things go to shit?