The Left Column
Grow up,
Lover
    I noticed that the bottle of wine
    was now empty.
  I noticed a case of beer
    now drained.

     Such days that you say you live in peace with me
 were days I was away with my terse
      thoughts.

  Sometimes poems aren't poems but mind farts.

  "delete me, delete me, please delete me"
   the poem screams.
 
   They thrust down the knife
     to cut the spumonni.


the diminishing
light at the end of the day.