in the dark streets beneath our home,
there is no escaping your glow — I stumble,
face down on a crumbling driveway,
ignoring you, though I gravitate toward

your frustrating point of light regardless
of what I do; mouth pressed to pavement
I laugh, knowing that I need only to roll
over and lie on my back, feel your stare

but for tonight, pretend that I do not
exist, do not follow me, just this once;
you will not always be my true north,
even fixed points drift in time

collapsed against the cold concrete,
a desperate attempt to embrace
something real in awkward fashion,
I wish you would fade away

turning, I vomit against the sky


Copyright © 2010 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved


About cjchaffin

Wordsmithing is my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe words and phrases, only to regurgitate them and pray that they are better off than when I first ingested them.
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