well, here I am,
waiting in a doctor's office
for 29 minutes before
she is about to come in
and consult me
about goddamn cancer
which makes for a weird 29 minutes.
it's windy in America tonight,
and this is a heavy poem,
but I don't need anything,
except for something sharp
and something high in ABV.
this is the truth,
and this poem weights 400lbs today,
because it is bigger than me,
like love and heartache,
like lonesomeness roaring,
but sore and tangible,
like the nose on my skull
and the inevitable stitches
within it.