what i thought about all last night, after a bottle and a half of wine and no forgiveness for the inability to judge temperaments of old friends

a shock to the system.
like a hot penny
burning through ice cubes,
or sunburnt skin
under aloe gel, i
don't know how
this is supposed
to be easy, or
comfortable.
gracious didn't come
through my pitiful
attempt at
accordance; the
tears were hard
to talk through.
you are like
thanksgiving leftovers
at christmas; or
flamboyancy in the closet.
i literally have
no more words for this
poem.

k.