Saturday, March 4, 2006


sitting on the floor
while he’s sitting on a chair
he instructs i obey
memories…get out of here…

on the floor, in the hall
my memory is blank
no one’s home, we’re all alone…
at least that’s what i think.

half asleep, the door opens
while i lie here in bed
i feel his presence as he enters
hair and face too close, so red.

a matress, on the living room floor
on a friday night so late
memory’s dim, but it isone of those i hate.