—WISH ALL THOSE FACTS WERE RUMORS

  

Bloody

 

I blister the pitcher of bloody mary’s all over the restaurant table, waiter coming over unstable, me unstable, life unstable  The things we spill have so much to tell us, like a hand of tarot cards, one with a throne, the other a guillotine  It takes just a minute to wipe up the mess, “It’s only water anyway,” but all I see is the red droplets he missed, staring at me like a hydra or a gang of angry carpenter ants.