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He says I don't understand him at 3 a.m.

When he is in the grip of the mystical

The Poetic

He says in a mocking voice "You scare me when you're like this"

He couldn't have it more wrong

3 a.m. is the time I know him best

Sometimes in the light of day he is foreign

A Boy Scout

A good citizen

He forgets I am always the miscreant

The Ugly One

He forgets that I boil poetry til it blacks the pot

And bleach the shitty streaky shorts of the unconscious

He has that Jimmy Stewart in the light of day/

Serial killer in the dead of night thing going on

But I have no dichotomy

No clean and shiny face to show the sun

I am always a sour note

Always a little bit crazy

Always fighting that downwards spin

He doesn't scare me when he's like this

I watch him putting out cigarettes in his chest

Working that broken bottle into his belly

And it feels familiar

I feel resigned

Like watching slow motion footage of a wreck I've seen a million times before

Hell, I've even driven the car

But the sound of breaking glass still makes me grind my teeth

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