Sour milk and chow mein

You always waited for
the wonderous calamities
to make amends and spit up random I Love You's.
I kept them in a pillowcase
since my mother's plane
crashed into that scenic mountain range.
I found your love
spent across Good Ol George's face,
fibers propelled by the promise of cocaine.
Shameful sex required paper bags
and plastic sheets.
God forbid we forgot to strip
the electric sockets
bare and free.
Your mementos remain
in the depths of the attic's
philisophical debris.
I used to test the limits of each floorboard-
Looking for excuses, birds, that
housed themselves in my confusing mess.
Somehow I always fell between
the coat racks and mannequins
and stumbled upon the boxes that caged our dreams.

I can honestly say it is not as bad
as it used to be.

Tonight you asked if I would like to
participate in our usual activity.
I bet you would have never thought
I already made a date with
late night infomercials.