I knew then,
when your hand
hung on for that
and our fingers
refused to depart,
that I knew
but the homeless woman
tried to sell us lottery
and I waved her off,
like an annoying insect,
with the buzzing noise of
fixed upon you.
They don’t want to leave
And why should they?
I won the lottery without playing.
But the homeless woman
is still homeless
while I get to call you home.
life just isn’t fair
and I’m surely partly to blame.
I could see she was exhausted,
as I took a drag from my cigarette
with a half-glass of cheap whiskey
in my other hand
ready for immediate consumption.
She wanted to know where home was.
She wanted to know when she’d be there.
I peered at buildings and
through the caged window
knowing that I couldn’t give her the answer
I could only simply reply,
“when you’re with me,
you are home.”
I’m not sure she comprehended my sentence
since we were both drowning in our sorrow,
but I managed to steal one more kiss from
her – she always tasted like my soul mate;
fermented, tobacco coated, with an aftertaste
of codeine. Hopeless,
I fell asleep with my eyes open,
and like any soul mate would do,
she happily joined.