Tuesday, September 06, 2005

serviettes



You sit there, tearing yours to shreds
As you outline yet again your doubts
Something about former lovers
Or is it your mother? I’m not quite sure;

All I can see is the way you are tearing
While you sit there staring at nothing
With those bad, mad, sad eyes.
But who am I to talk? I look down,

To see mine folded neatly into strips,
As I sit listening, waiting to be torn.
“God, is that the time?”, you say,
As you gently lay down my wrist.

The moment is lost; we both now must go our separate ways
And leave the sad looking waitress to clear the debris.


© JL Pagano 1988


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1 comment:

BEAD said...

This, like so many other Pagano moments, is pure fucking genius. A touch of the Brendan Behan about it. And Like Behan, I love this. Keep up the writing, class..good to know you Mr Pagano - Bead