A fresh start
I start a new day with a scotch of whiskey
we made love last night
and slept alongside
tipsy with few bottles of Brouwhoeve IPA
in the warmth of each other’s bosom
dreaming a future
(a happy one I imagine)
together.
this morning
quite early
earlier than usual
she wakes up before I do
dressed up in her new pants
(those were my gifts in her birthday last week)
decides to leave
yeah, leave.
she takes the first flight
to abandon the city
(would she abandon me?
i was a good lover – she had said last week)
and flies to ‘her’ new place
(she is already ‘moving on’ there,
someone texted me)
while I am cold and
still in this warm bed
stripped
out of the dreams, fresh ones
we had dreamt together.
I ruminate
over
her voice
(and fantasies i had listened to)
her face
(and lips i had kissed on)
the love
we had and
we made–
this schism
tears
me
apart–
I cry
few drops of semen. Ah.
Ah.
I start
a New day, now
a Fresh one
with a scotch of whiskey–
in the Irish pub next door
a sixty-five-year-old pensioner
joins me with a bottle of Backbone Splitter.
I hate beer!
(Bang)
Republished in April 2021