down the mildewed
shower curtain
while
pissing blood
or Red Stripe
or whatever
and stumbling
back to a
half crumbled
pack of Kools
on her
side of the bed,
he began to
study her
sleeping face,
her other-worldly
beauty.
He stood wooden
just for
a moment,
and thought
that she was
the one he
had loved.
Having pissed,
and smoking
a Kool,
(he hated menthols)
he wondered
if he were
the only one
who sold out
and settled,
for Jamaican beer,
and shitty smokes,
and a lonely girl
he didn't know.
