the keyboard has been drinking

i'm done.
i'm done, cause my
head hurts from the
jack and bitterness,
from the questions,
and from the
unrequited handshake.
i have to be done
with you
because if i don't
it's curtains for me
and my poor little
brain, don't you see...
don't you see...
i'm sure you are rooting
for this, silently.
this humor is eluding
me, and my
stupid drunken letters,
i'm a regular
tom waits over here
with a drunken piano
and a full head
so
it's done like thanksgiving
turkey
and my birthday
and you.

k.