She was so angry that she nearly had as much hate
as comes through my windows with the morning sun.
“How could you?”
she kept saying,
over and over until it began to bore me
so I answered her.
—Fuck if I know.
I mean, I get it, sometimes I punch strangers in the face
or give half my money away when rent is due.
Sometimes I get arrested or jump a bus to a different state for a while
or show up to work as drunk as anyone has ever been,
and I know people are not supposed to make these mistakes.
But some mornings you wake up and all you think about
is the .38 Special revolver you buried in a safe
on the northeast corner of the white oak
fifty paces past the drainage ditch near mile marker nineteen.
You get fired or you don’t.
You get evicted or you don’t.
When the choice arrives between tomorrow and today
you choose today.
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