BREAKING UP SUCKS by Phil Comer

I awoke at 3 a.m., a cat between my knees,

soiled pillow, matted hair beneath my head.

The night began with heady wine, dark, oaky, bold;

swirled in goblets, legs clung to the glass; yours entwined mine.

We unhinged jaws and shed skins like the snakes we have become.

Control-Alt-Delete. Blue screen of death. Windows has stopped working.

The good gone, we ended on rotgut and string cheese;

my tongue swilled the last of your dregs.

Meet halfway, one is not enough, some more than others, endless clichés.

Apples, bananas, we never mixed MP3s or DVDs.

Drive home, one eye open the other shut, weaving for a DUI.

Where’d I put the keys? Where’d I park the car? How’d I get inside?

Figure all that later, in light of day, as I reboot.

Tank’s almost full, should take me far,

someone somewhere new, not you.

Even sleep evades, a distant rugged un-clambered vista.

The cat between my legs resembles none I know.

Must have crept in while you filled me to distraction,

tomorrow – maybe – I’ll give it a name.

Next in the Silly Poem series:

“Stalker Poem (My Darling),” demented stuff.  (Go!)

© Phil Comer

Disclaimer: Although loosely based on reality, characters and events are none you or I know. If you think this doesn't totally suck, please Comment, Follow and click Like. Thanks!

Text is copyright material of the author. Grainy photo by Phil Comer, models Elizabeth Corrigan and David Gatchel. Police photos came out much better. Unless stated otherwise, links are for information and not the property of the author.