CHECKING OUT
And then the door slammed
and he stood there
in the middle of the room
looking toward the finality,
as if he could see the tracers
of her striding angry,
furiously from him.
“Fuck this!”
she had said,
and the shock
of those two ugly words
echoed inside his foggy brain,
already confused
and struggling
to make sense
of what had happened.
The coins and the change bowl
and paperbacks and pens
she had swept with an angry arm
off the top of the bookshelf
lay scattered on the floor.
In his hand he clutched
the orange she’d thrown
at his head.
“Is this it?” he wondered.
“Is it finally over?
Or is this some new torture,
the start of some new
chapter in this confusing mystery?”
Outside, an engine started and revved
and the peel of rubber told him
another non-supporting
character had just exited
stage left.
By David Allen
Like my poetry? Then buy my book, “The Story So Far,” published by Writers Ink Press, Long Island, N.Y. You can find it on Amazon.com (http://www.amazon.com/Story-So-Far-David-Allen/dp/0925062480/ref=sr_1_13?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397184666&sr=1-13&keywords=the+story+so+far) in paperback and Kindle formats, or by sending me $10 at:
David Allen
803 Avalon Lane
Chesterfield, IN 46017
Type Dancing 