Thursday, October 12, 2006


Initially they were funny.
Stories of you answering
the door wearing nothing
but last nights glob filled durex;
or the infamous phone vid-
settled on the toilet spewing
into ankle dropped boxer shorts.
Finding you, jacket singed,
leaning on the 2 bar fire,
bed-sit sweltering, drum-tight,
til a window's opened to
the psssttt of your next can.
Yeah, initially they were funny.
Fat Ernie
fucking you the night
your fiancé left,
sharing crabs with a whiskey quart,
and me asking "Why?"
as you curled a questionmark
on the same fetid bed
now propped in the yard,
surface a burnt charred
Rorschach Mark,
interpreted locally as:
an illness,
a weakness,
a drunken cunt..............................

by Chris Major

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