The Long Walk Home
you slip into the alley
between the railway
and the ivy
the alley
leading home
to the never-ending
argument
look between the railings
there is a wetness that clings
to the surface of the leaves
the trees
the iron railings
even discarded
condom wrappers
have an abandoned
beauty
having lost all memory
of their former selves
you think of home
and of the sadness
clinging
like cooking fat
to the kitchen walls
your spirit slips
between the railings
curls up in the leaves
and dies
your body walks home
unseeing
toward the sadness
and the sadness
and the never-ending argument
