she came in through the window,
looking for some drugs I guess,
all she found was leftover stale beer,
in empty and broken bottles.
frustrated she turned the place upside down,
found me beneath a pile of unwashed wet clothes,
drunk and serenading a nightmare,
suddenly I woke up excited,
asked her to stay for the night.
She cooked me some soup,
fidgeting all the while,
for the lack of heroin in her system.
Who even does heroin anymore? I proffered.
Who even drinks anymore? A fair point.
the vapour from the soup, thick and warm,
clouded my vision, and her judgment.
i attempted to trust a robber,
she tried to sober up a drunk.
so we stayed up late,
and talked about politics and pilsners.
I wanted the conversation to lead to sex,
she wanted the conversation to stop.
at the crossroads, buried under my dirty laundry,
we both found what we were looking for.