Commitment. That’s you to your sofa.
Choose life. No thanks, you prefer inertia:
Migraleve tablets, beer and DVDs. Regret:
you splat dead with a rolled up newspaper,
grind its remains into the carpet, defiant
with your dirty socks. This new freedom
glues one hand to the remote. Memories
shoved to the back of the kitchen drawer
slash you with paper cuts when you grope
for the Chinese menu. Order on auto-pilot.
(No. 66, 108 and a 132 – prawn crackers free.)
She always had a funny habit of sucking
spring rolls. Teasing out stray beansrouts,
with her tongue, getting her chin all mucky.
It was gross – now you’re smiling. Fuck it.
Not thinking of that. No hope, no way back.
You unplug the phone. Crack another bottle:
swallow, anaesthetize, forget. Remember
to take out the empties only in the dark:
neighbours like to play their counting games.
She’d laugh that. She’d give them a wave.
They’ve noticed of course, she’s not here,
not now. You keep the curtains closed
mostly. Make efforts some weeks to buy
well-intentioned vegetables – healthy diet,
healthy mind. Broccoli stinks out your fridge
when it rots. So, what’s on telly tonight?