Snail Male.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Making someone up on paper is not hard. Especially when the reader has only vague, drunken memories of whomever you pretended to be that evening.

Submitted: December 27, 2011

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Submitted: December 27, 2011

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The women

write from

Chicago from,

Pittsburgh from,

Columbus from

places I've

been

but never

stayed.

 

They write

about finding me.

 

They cannot wait

to be

beneath

my skin.

 

And I write back.

 

Dragging their love

through the muck

of a pipe

dream.

 

Little do they know.

I lay on the floor

three hours

a day

the hum of a space heater

boring

the silence to

mania.

 

I neglect laundry.

I take violent

shits.

I shower too

long.

 

I sound like a dream

lover

on paper.

 

Then again,

so do they.


© Copyright 2017 Ed Percy. All rights reserved.