(for j, because of p)

every couple of months, you
call and ask me to help you move
some furniture around in your
house, starting with the bed.
you say you just can’t get to
sleep anymore surrounded
by all these corners and
varying degrees of nearly right
angles. with the phone in
one hand, a bottle of Jägermeister
sticking frozen to the other
you say please,
please come – i feel i’m getting
closer to the truth this time.
and as your life-long girlfriend
with the perpetually
convenient back problem sits
decorating wallflowers
against the kitchen counter, we
move the bed, the dresser,
the lamp, the couch,
the television stand, and
on and on, until those spirits
haunting you cannot recognize
this as home anymore. but
you were the one who made
the pact with the devil, and
after a month or two, it’s just
going to be the same thing again
.
20080213:1140
y