heavy thoughts

sitting with a glass of merlot,
heavy, thick tasting stuff,

listening to music
& the tap of computer keys

trying to sort out
my life figuring the

narrative curve
hoping against hope that

the story hasn't climaxed
somewhat afraid it has

(i fear the existential
b-money shot)

i'm contemplative
as i listen to the

soft guitar music
& watch my cat bat

things around on my desk

grab the wine bottle
by the neck uncork

pour another glass
drink deep

i'll forgo the glass soon
& drink from the bottle

better to get at the vino
easier that way

i promise i'm not a drunk
not even close

i tried to be one time
long ago, but it didn't take

i was a wimp couldn't
handle the aftereffects

that's why i don't
read bukowski

have it told you
that i have warts

on my hands
i do: 3 on my left hand

7 on my right all
are palmsidedown

dispel a myth here:

you get warts
not hairy palms

i'm kidding
i think

DWC