love is a luxury that i can’t afford
oh, yes, i was old enough to know better
when i shot the bottles and let that green and brown glass
shatter spread atop the rocks of my dead grandparents yard
where and what is the in between of easy and hard?
with eyes shut up tight i go floating down the boulevard
with my debit, metro, and identification card gripped tightly
in my hand in a ziplock plastic bag
i get ahead of it all as you tend to lag
maybe we’re just not compatible yet a perfect match
watching my ten year old cousin lighting match after match
lightning candles around a dinner table set for eleven
heading down to the 7-11 for some liquid courage
and this time i won’t be discouraged
by the cricket of a conscience in my head
is feverish
i make a wish as a blow out a candle my ten
year old cousin lit
feeling as if the fairy or genie or god that grants
wishes is bored of hearing the same request
over and over
again:
love is a luxury i can’t afford
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