it may be that pain costs too much—any more than $100-
$200 dollars and it’s cheaper to get high. That girl I saw
at Midway wouldn’t talk to me. She gave me that look--
you know the look, the one that says I want you,
I want to touch you, I want you
to leave me alone. Nevertheless--it is the hardest part of the day
when you wake up in the morning with a headache and a hangover
and can’t remember the name of the person next to you.
It sucks that hunger costs too much and is too hard to pin down
but maybe—just maybe—it doesn’t cost quite enough.
That girl at the bus stop—I heard her name is Mona, she likes to smoke
Marlboro Lights and I wish she would just say hello
or good-bye or fuck off. Those words are the cheapest and pain
is never original and when I told her I was cold I really meant
I wanted to cut the words from the back of my throat.
When she looked at me with that look that said I’m traditional—
I want to sleep with you—I want to walk across the Mississippi
River I couldn’t believe the sun was shaking. Nevertheless--
the best of me is left twisting in West St Paul, the reality is all pain
eventually becomes affordable but Mona said she loves me---
told me she carries a cross to prove it