poem: low rent living

14 Mar

she walked into the living room,
sat on a thrift store reject couch,
adjusted her breasts,
and lit a cigarette –

we talked awhile about the weather –
a recent storm killed twelve when a levee gave way –
she said something about getting out –
a night on the town –
i changed channels on the TV i stole from the back of a Best Buy delivery truck –

you never listen to me,
she said –
you never have anything to say,
i said –

she spun off to our bedroom in the back of the single wide trailer,
changed into her best fuck my ass jeans,
a pink tank top and six inch heels –

i’ll be back later,
she said –
no rush,
i said –

as the sun began to stretch into an indifferent morning sky,
a gray Chevy pick-up truck rolled up the gravel and stopped –
i lazily listened to the front door slap shut as she stumbled through –

i walked into the kitchen,
watched her drink the last of a warm beer
over a sink filled with fast-food containers –
she set ten twenty-dollar bills on the stove –

we can make rent now,
she said –
you’re my girl,
i said –

we kissed –
her breath thick with cigarettes,
alcohol and something salty –
i took her by the hand and laid her down on our Goodwill mattress –

as she sat on the toilet pissing away the experience,
she lit a cigarette and looked at me –

your brother says hello, by the way
she said –

your sister says the same –


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2 Responses to “poem: low rent living”

  1. rebecca renee hess March 15, 2011 at 7:48 pm #

    that’s some sick shit, mister henry. must be from southern cali, because i feel it right here.

  2. jck hnry March 15, 2011 at 8:06 pm #

    hahaha…i do live in so cal…in the high desert quite close to hell itself…

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