I raise my head from
underneath the covers
and squint at the
violent sunshine
that fills the room
I don't do mornings.
It's always such
a challenge
to leave the safety
of these blankets
and the warmth
of her ass
pressed up
against me.
To face a pile
of unpaid bills,
of over-due rent
and ugly people
all crying out for
their little piece.
Soon there will be nothing
left for them,
just a pile of bleached bones
picked clean.
I wonder what it will be like
just to disapear.
Rolling onto my side,
I drape an arm across her chest
and rest my face against
her blonde hair.
'The cat's need feeding' she murmers
still half asleep.
I sigh,
pull on some jeans
and pad barefoot into
the kitchen.
Around my feet
2 sets of hungry eyes
gaze up at me,
their tiny voices
mewing in unison
as I set the can opener
to work.
'Gimmie, gimmie, gimme' I smile down at
them through my 4 day beard.
'Well, might as well start the day
the way it means to go on....'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem