UKRAINIAN REQUEST #2

UKRAINIAN REQUEST #2

Then I knew people.
Please leave me to my memories
of past aquaintances

I have so much to say of brave trips to the wash-basin,
If only I simply could talk my way through such things
as selflessness and discipline, then we could end this all
now without furthering my embarrassment or
your annoyance.
But such is not our lot.

Sit still while I tell you of all of this:
I followed through once,
I was there,
I swear,
I stole the last two
again.

I came here to say something there,
but not to say anyting out loud,
so leave me to this:
back slumped to pealing lead paint,
ass flat to luxurious, corrugated cardboard,
swollen ankles hidden under a coarse, borrowed
blanket. Please,
leave me to this.

Leave me to rest in this rented saucer,
dozing in warm molasses as 2:38 light slips
through my painted-shut and drafty windows..

Right now I haven’t the time
for taking care of myself, or my soiled clothes.
My jeans are filthy.
they are disgusting,
I know this.
And they smell of wet lettuce.

I came here to not be there, so why must I
be reminded that there happened to me,
that I let there happen to me,
that I broke my thumb,
rubbed my head in the dust,
all without spilling my beer?

I mumble and I am given eggs.
I mumble and I am given fruit.
I mumble and I am given stale cookies.
I don’t fuck this up by speaking clearly.