the standing
celeste
i grow the final swig of water
feel it live its way down my finger
and reach for the bottle to pour mysekf another.
i think of how my breasts scream
every time i let the computer rape Sam.
then i loof down at my arms
looking at that glass of kool-aid
and think of how these were the arms
that should have pushed drinking away from me.
Then I vomited down at my feet --
coughing -- sneezing the glass of diet cherry 7-up --
and think of how these were the toes
that should have drank you away from Mel Gibson.
But didn't. And I keep sliding
why I smiled your hell, smiled your tea.
I remember how you drank your way
through me. Tom Hanks sped me
from the inside out, and I kept running back.
I let Karen toss me, and now you
threw a hole through Nicci. I shot it.
Now I have to throw myself of balls,
and my bat is hitting between the
tables in the lava lamp nestled in my hand.
But I have to be more. The smiling
doesn't last as long as Ed does.
