This poem has appeared in Uprooted magazine.
on a windy day
when pedestrians are
dragged
off the
streets
like so much newspaper
Chinaski
poet of some renown
goes for a ride in his car
to his favourite whore
to complain how sick he is
she just listens
they don't fuck anymore
she is also getting old
and sick
after the third bottle of wine
Chinaski goes to piss
to the john
even this doesn't work
there is an LED
blinking on the wall
on
OFF
on
near the toothpaste and perfume bottles
Chinaski reflects
for a moment
on an alarm clock
then blows his brains out
with the gun he carries
in an ankle holster
for the last five
years
after a pause
he comes out
checks out his flesh in the full-length
mirror by the door
like a suit
leaves his woman
to clean up the mess
all over again