Jason, Jacqueline, and Jamie

Jason and Jacqueline were not in love at the time. In fact, Jacqueline was spending a few nights a week at a hotel downtown. She said it was easier to sleep in a clean bed. The bed at her home (with Jason) was often spoiled by crumbs.

Jason always had an appetite that resulted in bits of dry, salty snacks falling into the sheets. So they were not in love at the time. Of course, that was no excuse.

The excuse was actually Jamie. But she wasn't the excuse for lonely hotels; she was the excuse for reclaiming the house. Jamie was a crumb, and Jacqueline hated crumbs.

One morning, after a clean night's sleep downtown, Jacqueline was appalled to return home and find Jamie, the crumb, in bed with Jason.

"You little crumb," she shouted.

Although she didn't really love Jason, Jacqueline made a show of being hurt in front of him

and in front of the court some weeks later.

Jason felt ashamed in spite of his unlove for Jacqueline. He didn't love Jamie either. He was just in love with the game. He had an appetite for the Jamies of the world like he had an appetite for dry, salty snacks.

So Jason ate a snack, Jamie was swept out like a crumb, and Jacqueline had a clean bed without hotel expense.

Now Jason stayed in a hotel (with his snacks).

And nobody was ever in love at that time or any other.

I fear poverty;
I fear it will make a thief
of me.

My eyelids,
though heavy with fatigue
born out of stress,
are wide open,
watching for opportunity
to take what I need
or might need.

I cannot despise
the beggar
shoplifter
thief
in me
or anyone else
these days.

LIKE AN ITCH

It's like an itch.
There are these pains
irritations
pressures
frustrations
that seem to be relieved
only by intensification.

Like an itch.
It's small
and irritating
and you scratch it,
you tear at it,
to make it go away.

And like an itch,
the pressure on my eyes seems like
it will only be relieved
by pressing them into my skull.

CAN YOU MAKE

The question:

Can you make it?
Can you make her?
Can you make her like you
in like five minutes?

Because that's all a guy needs.

He needs to know that he's still got it
and by it I mean
the ability to make it,
to make her like him
in the same amount of time
it takes him to decide
she's not worth it.

EVEN WEAKER SET

Leaving behind a fresh batch of
“I already know how tonight plays out,”
I drive across town to
beg for scraps
(as that’s all my stomach can handle these days,
Scraps, that is)

Tomorrow will be another test,
Multiple choice:
a) Procrastinate
b) Masturbate
c) Try to get a job
d) Prove my worth in society
e) A and B
f) C and D

Women are the weaker sex,
they say,
they being people in general
not the women themselves,
most of the time,
But when I wake up
with whiskey breath
that taste of death
I have to reconsider
because

if a man wins the bread
and pays all his debts
I guess I’m cast(e) of some third,
even weaker set