Born with a
face that life would erase
I chased
the frustrated wind to New York
Fell in
love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak
And we
danced to the popping of corks
I found
work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds
Of my
dreams I did plant in the sink
Where the
tower of plates threw shadows on our fates
And I had
too much time for to think
Fourteen
hours a day left me little time to play
With my
lover who slept through her blues
As the
sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played
While I struggled
through my headaches and flus
And my
vision of a day when we could get away
Seemed t
sink into the suds of the soap
That I used
to make money that I spent on my honey
For to keep
her in Cheetos and dope
One day
alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots
I was
beginning to fear for our life
While the
burners threw heat from out under the meat
I lunged
with the edge of a knife
And as my
blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose
On the face
of a China
I returned
to a time when hope was our friend
Instead of
this bitch that we hate
I fell to
the tiles my face was all smiles
The sink
overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters
And
vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood
I began to
relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried
“Well this
is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”
I awoke to
the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed
My wrists
were all flesh there were no signs of cuts
As I reached
out to touch her sweet head
And as the
sweat on her face found a new resting place
On the tip
of my fingers I leaned
Into her
ear and told her no fear
We’re just having the same awful dream
