Je suis fatigue
| filed under: Poem, Chris Abraham, Pomes, Poetry, Writing, Creative Writing, Poet, Poems
The ennui of 26 years and a little bit of voyeurism? Maybe of longing?
and when the day grinds
as i am alone and lonely
in a place where a girl
presses herself to me
and people call to me and
the sun shines on texas but
it must be the gray it must
be the loathsome gloom, no
light to wake to wake to
make the day come to me like
fireworks to come to me and
lay me astride as pretty latin
women sit arched backed in
white cafe chairs, smoking yellow-filtered
cigarettes, pressing black curls
behind the ear, crossing thighs
licking lips, stroking hair, giggling,
laughing, bending together in
their muted conversation there
on the veranda of the cafe of the cafe
where they gesture and purse their
mouths like bitterness.