siam
07-26-2001, 08:54 PM
under the table he finds her hand
a little thump, a reprimand
for having spoken out of turn
i crush the cigarette on my wrist
it doesn't hurt but i smell it burn
she looks down as the table turns the conversation
to church politics and the path to salvation
she reaches for her glass
let the silence erase her
i chew the salt off his shoulder
throw back a chaser
of hot tequila and lime
burning my throat
wasting my time
the buzz will cloud the choices
the noise will blur the voices
as her smile replaces the sound
and her eyes settle down
to their knees
and wait for his permission
to be
i don't know his name
he buys me drinks just the same
and offers me a light
she whispers to him
he says it's alright
so she excuses herself and quietly
makes her way to the restroom
in the back
i take my drink with me
and another cigarette
i'm drunk.
i see three of her and none of me.
she pretends to fix her face
i pretend to wash my hands
the smoke clouds the mirror
she puts on lipstick then
wipes it off
i smell him on her
i can stare
she doesn't know she's there
and she quit looking people in the eye
years ago.
we reach for the same paper towel
her hand is damp and cold
but soft and a generation younger
than her face is old
i'm wearing all black
my sleeve slipped up past my wrist
she takes in a breath and says only, oh.
maybe apologizing for the scar and the burn
for seeing it or for it being
i don't know
i fell
into the wrong hands
i don't lie to her
we're not talking really
none of this is happening anyway
so who cares what we say
her eyes lift to my hand
holding a cigarette
spilling regret onto the cuts
on my fingers and the scars
round the cuff
saying nothing is enough
and the cigarette is warm and white
i quit wearing lipstick ten years ago last night
i feel him wonder what's keeping her
she feels it too
and begins to shake as she stumbles
to the door
my veins growl like a stomach
my mind numbs like a whore
tension's filled the room
but everyone's too drunk to notice
murphy refills my glass
asks if i'm alright
i nod.
i can feel the imprint of his thumb on her pulse
and the match on my skin
he puts the fire out
but i can smell the burn again
and know i'm real
as long as i can feel the pain
the burn
the cut
the sound of my name
i hate him when he helps her with her coat
tightening the grip of the leash round her throat
he makes her repeat what she said
roll over, play dead
till it's her favorite game
makes her speak his name
makes a joke out of her
they all laugh at....even her...
she laughs and looks down
she won't make a sound
there's nothing to say
so i just look away
and order another
for the dumb motherfucker
with his hand on my thigh
and his mind in my eye
yeah he can drive me home
if he needs to bone
this dog who's been trained
like the woman in the rain
who should have been drowned
before god took the sound
out of her
whatever.
a little thump, a reprimand
for having spoken out of turn
i crush the cigarette on my wrist
it doesn't hurt but i smell it burn
she looks down as the table turns the conversation
to church politics and the path to salvation
she reaches for her glass
let the silence erase her
i chew the salt off his shoulder
throw back a chaser
of hot tequila and lime
burning my throat
wasting my time
the buzz will cloud the choices
the noise will blur the voices
as her smile replaces the sound
and her eyes settle down
to their knees
and wait for his permission
to be
i don't know his name
he buys me drinks just the same
and offers me a light
she whispers to him
he says it's alright
so she excuses herself and quietly
makes her way to the restroom
in the back
i take my drink with me
and another cigarette
i'm drunk.
i see three of her and none of me.
she pretends to fix her face
i pretend to wash my hands
the smoke clouds the mirror
she puts on lipstick then
wipes it off
i smell him on her
i can stare
she doesn't know she's there
and she quit looking people in the eye
years ago.
we reach for the same paper towel
her hand is damp and cold
but soft and a generation younger
than her face is old
i'm wearing all black
my sleeve slipped up past my wrist
she takes in a breath and says only, oh.
maybe apologizing for the scar and the burn
for seeing it or for it being
i don't know
i fell
into the wrong hands
i don't lie to her
we're not talking really
none of this is happening anyway
so who cares what we say
her eyes lift to my hand
holding a cigarette
spilling regret onto the cuts
on my fingers and the scars
round the cuff
saying nothing is enough
and the cigarette is warm and white
i quit wearing lipstick ten years ago last night
i feel him wonder what's keeping her
she feels it too
and begins to shake as she stumbles
to the door
my veins growl like a stomach
my mind numbs like a whore
tension's filled the room
but everyone's too drunk to notice
murphy refills my glass
asks if i'm alright
i nod.
i can feel the imprint of his thumb on her pulse
and the match on my skin
he puts the fire out
but i can smell the burn again
and know i'm real
as long as i can feel the pain
the burn
the cut
the sound of my name
i hate him when he helps her with her coat
tightening the grip of the leash round her throat
he makes her repeat what she said
roll over, play dead
till it's her favorite game
makes her speak his name
makes a joke out of her
they all laugh at....even her...
she laughs and looks down
she won't make a sound
there's nothing to say
so i just look away
and order another
for the dumb motherfucker
with his hand on my thigh
and his mind in my eye
yeah he can drive me home
if he needs to bone
this dog who's been trained
like the woman in the rain
who should have been drowned
before god took the sound
out of her
whatever.