Posted by: sulya | 16 December 2009

Waiting Up

Was tired hours ago.
Hit restless a while back
and then fidgeted my way back
through to tired.

Waiting up for something I can’t name
but I can taste.

I can feel.

Like when you lick the skin
between your thumb and forefinger
and then shake on the salt
and lick the salt
and throw back the shot
and suck on the lime.

only I must be waiting for something else

because when I drink Tequila
I don’t need the salt
or the lime

Just the glass.
And the burn.

And I’ve been tired for hours
For days
For years
And I like my bed
And because I’ve never shared it with anyone
I liked sharing it with
I don’t even mind being in it alone.

But I’m sitting here instead.
Waiting.
Waiting up
for God knows what
and I don’t know why

but it feels good to lick my hand
and I’ve always been fond of salt
and I’ll know it when I see it
I’ll know it when it comes

I’ll be awake.
I’ll be up.
I’ll be waiting.

**

***

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Responses

  1. That’s good Sulya. I don’t know if it is a poem or not. But it is good whatever it is.

  2. Thank you, ‘smee.


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