A Flower With Doors - Poem by John Courtney
the TV melts, I think
about Vicki, I press her
face against my walls.
I pull the plug
on my drink and begin
to think about how old she must be now,
she can purchase her own cigarettes
that's probably why she doesn't want to see me.
I think of the dishes
waiting for me
in the other room
and I think Vicki was
a bitch anyway
or she'd be in the
I stay in my chair
and watch her dance
on my walls.
I make the dog buy
me another drink and begin
to think about how old I must be now,
Comments about A Flower With Doors by John Courtney
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You