She Doesn’t Bring Me Flowers

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drunk and disgusting
I sing out of key,
pounding the arm of my chair
like a percussion instrument
I pause to sip a beer,
I’m a spider
my ego the fly,
trapped in awareness
my ego drinks the web,
free and floating
I’m thrown to the floor,
with a crash I see the futility,
the futility
of sobriety,
of drinking,
of loving,
of hating,
with this new insight I answer the door:
“Will you keep the goddamn noise down!
I’m trying to sleep!!”
I nod submissively
and wonder why
she doesn’t bring me flowers.

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Notes

This was published in a magazine I can’t remember the name of – somewhere (Indiana?) in the USA. The acceptance letter (see above) makes me call it Kidd Smiley. Obviously Bukowski Influenced (& my own drunken experiences) – that could be an epithet for a lot of poets in their 20’s during that time period. I’m guilty of this myself! It was written during the heaviest of my drinking days…”drunk and confused” may have been a more appropriate beginning than “drunk and disgusting”…or maybe “drunk and pathetic”? hahaha. All true. I could see this being written during my brief time at Beverly Hills Apartments on Main St. in Hamilton…until I was asked to leave with a 30-day notice taped to my door. I certainly had a few knocks upon my door during that time period!

Kidd Smiley has left the building!

Written: 1988
Published in Cramped and Wet – Kidd Smiley (Iowa) 1990

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