2 of 30

Write now Article Tools

Company, Solitude and Reckless Abandonment

I loosen the screws
in the hinge of my jaw
and words just spill like toxic waste,
smothering the river of red eyes
I am standing knee-deep in.
My friends are arranged
around the living room
passing glass bongs and bowls
like sloppy clockwork.
Their jeweled ears, like silver vents,
are aimed away from where I am.
They are not listening.

I step out and look around
for an open bathroom door.
The yellow wallpaper is peeling
in chunks-torn strips
resemble large hearts. I smile
and find bright circles on the
dirty shower curtain
flashing wide grins back at me.
On the way back to my friends,
I grab an icy long-necked bottle
and pop the cap and drop
the bottle opener on the floor.
Thirst surges through my veins
to discover
my friends have disappeared.
Vanished, out the door,
probably toward a package store.
I am alone
in someone else's house
and I have been forgotten.
My hands are shaking so hard
I can hear my bones rattle.

The windows of the back porch
are fogged up around the edges,
a white backdrop behind mouthfuls
of carbon dioxide and
cigarette smoke.
I suck each down to it's filter
and smother them
in an overcrowded ash tray.
Sitting across from me is
some kid's older brother
and his stereo. He offers me
a G&T and take it, still shaking
and guzzle till I'm smashed.
I say I like the way he keeps to himself
and it's too bad I'm so naive.
He says
close my lips and listen to the music.
And I float above the lyrics
carried by bellowed vocals
and I have never been
in more pleasant company.

Learn more about this author, Megan Deroche.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Exile?
We want to hear your view. Write now!