Morning Glory/ Story Poem

Thick smoke  circled the room

in a haze of light and shades

while sex filled the rest with excess.

He inhaled my surplus in a waft,

heaving and wheezing,  my neglect

of cheap perfume over funk.

I pour myself a Scotch

while waiting for my 3 o’clock to go.

I got to pee clean my cock

for the next jock, it was after four,

but this trick won’t leave.

He’s wasting my

time on his thin dime,

laying sprawled

on the bed, like he ain’t heard.

Another deep pull and I’m ready to blow.

“You got to go!”

He doesn’t move even when I cross the room.

“Hey!” I say.

Then that yellow flow across stain sheets

and recognizable stench.

“Ah Shit!”

I down my Scotch, cleaned him out, killed my cig

grabbed my shit and bounce.

Hell yeah, I left him to his dying morning glory.

What? Ain’t shit I can do?

Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin


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