there's
a dust cloud
in my brain
as I drink dirty stoli
and lie in bed

the creature comforts
of byzantine remorse

plagued by a lifetime
of phone-a-friends
and fifty-fifty's
who wants to be a millionaire?

the books shelves are yawning
the words
are stored
voices on the shelf
the bedsheets too have a tale
but let's not talk about that

everything has a story
even cement
has a nature
a life and death

life is hard and then easy and then hard again
Jane Leslie