Borracha

Cement filled balloons for hands.

Forgot your name, friend.

The ceiling is on the floor.

My bra is hanging out of the pizza box.

Bloodshot Stomach.

Bloated Eyes.

Carpet burned knee caps.

The pizza box is wearing vomit.

Quarters in the toilet.

What’s your name again?

Driver’s license and 50 dollars unaccounted for.

Empty bottles ornament the carpet.

Pizza box crushed under one steel toed black boot.

Under the bed – sheets, socks and cigarette butts.

Your name escaped.

Sticky laptop keys.

The room smells of salmon, sweat and tobacco.

“Bes nigh ev” in lipstick on the mirror.

Gravity droops my cheek and breast.

You snore but

You happen to be cute.

What color were your eyes?

Dry heaves commence.

I’m sure that it will be nice to meet you

Nameless,

When you wake.

When we meet again.

Some day.