Tuesday, December 30, 2008

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.

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