What were you thinking when you met me?
That I was a sad, misunderstood guy
who bicycled a lot and loved the outdoors?
I know you weren’t thinking 911 calls in the
middle of the night, flashing lights and handcuffs.
Vomit on the deck, vomit of a life onto the carpet.
Beer cans by the thousands scattered through your life
gathering, growing slowly at first, then quickly drifting over you,