Memorial Fragments
He takes her head in his hands to kiss her
a wet-tongue kiss
and his fingers and mustache, even his saliva
smell of marijuana.
Then he arches and groans.
He hasn’t noticed her lack of response.
She knows she’s alone
He’s gone inside himself again,
Not sharing love.
Not sharing anything.
They ask her why she doesn’t smoke anymore
and she tells them it’s school
no dope during school.
But that’s not it.
She just got tired of evenings spent
with friends and a bhong
Each of them alone though they were all together.
So she doesn’t smoke anymore.
When they finally get dressed she goes to her room,
sits at her desk,
does homework.
While he watches the six o’clock news and gets stoned.
Explore posts in the same categories: AA, Men and Women, Small Town Life, Substance AbuseTags: couples, loneliness, marijuana, sex, smoking pot
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February 27, 2013 at 7:48 am
Good poem. That last line sums it up perfectly.
February 27, 2013 at 11:55 am
Thanks, Dave. When it doesn’t rhyme I’m never sure if I really just wrote a poem or a very short essay;-)
February 22, 2013 at 12:09 pm
Powerful stuff.
Thanks for sharing.
February 22, 2013 at 12:13 pm
And thank YOU for reading.