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 Abuse

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4 Comments on “Memorial Fragments”

  1. Dave Says:

    Good poem. That last line sums it up perfectly.


  2. The Hook Says:

    Powerful stuff.
    Thanks for sharing.


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