DAILYSOMETHING

He

Ah, but he is less than he thought he was,
much less, the refrigerator is empty
and the only words that come to mind are someone else’s
and there is nothing to do on this day or another,
as he scuffles at those who wait impatiently
for the events on their calendars to arrive, there are

no hands

to hold hands with
and the down and down of mornings and evenings
and the down and down of the things he expects to be up
and the down and down of buses and people
and the down and down of smells in his bed
even his words and thoughts gain an unlikely cheapness

the perfect person had failed him
and he is down and dirty and smelling of boredom
and the exit is tight in his chest
and maybe but maybe

one day or another (she never left his head)
to lie in bed and not leave under any circumstance
not even thirst
a noble suicide