Untitled
Britt Suzanne Posmer
I called you last night
You were distracted
The garbled sound of the tv
Blaring through the receiver
How is it
That you are the only man
With whom I feel boring
Less interesting than the cacophony
Of noise behind you
Squawking like the voice of
Charlie Brown's teacher
You would rather watch your relationships
On a ridiculous talking box
Than risk the engagement
With someone who might expect
Something from you in return
You hoard your life
Like a rat
Baring its teeth
Over a pile of worthless objects
It has stashed in a hole
Underneath the stairs
Desperately wanting someone to recognize
The value of your treasure
While savagely biting the hand
Of any who come near
