Contemptuous Old Bastard

Now that the War is over,

You've become a piece of furniture,

A sofa or a footstool and I'll use you.

I'll smoke my yellow cloudy cigars and

I'll shout my whiskey curses, 

Throwing rags and empty plates.

You'll shrink and turn into

Anything that I don't notice...

Anything at all.

But someday, when I'm wrinkled and thin

Like an old slipper, 

I'll notice my leathery hands and face

For the first time and I'll apologize.