VINYL POETRY

Volume 3, May 2011

BIRDIE
Roberto MontesView Contributor’s Note

Everyone is Approximately Everyone Else

Last night I locked the bathroom door against the empty apartment. Tonight: who knows. YOU ARE SO CLEARLY YOURSELF the ache in my ankle likes to inform when I’ve had enough of nothing. And but life’s still there branded on each mug that fills my cupboards. Overflowing half-hearted into the sink. And I mean eventually I’ll succumb. Fall violently in love and have to make out with everyone even my tormentors. The Laundromats. The never-ceasing soup of life. And but I don’t want to die. I mean I’ll just listen to my eyes which claim I’m mostly made of light.