Monday, April 12, 2010


On a hotel roof
in San Diego, California,
caterwaul of sirens
and hookers muted,
I read my horoscope
and fed my appetite
for loneliness
and chemicals.
The minutes crept past
slow as thunder.
Smog lit by night lights glowed
like a translucent shower curtain,
and I wept,
thinking of home,
of Ophelia's head
resting over my heart.

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