chilling

i like my hands dirty
maybe smelling of garlic and dirt
or naughtier...
these days
those days
seemed to have met without me noticing.
infact I notice very little now
the void terror left
is filled with nuance
and ireverant flatulent ease.
Her face glows in the light of the tv
as the pit bull sleeps
and I realize I haven't thought a thing in hours.

I like the way we smell,
gasoline
cigarettes
pacific Northwest beer
and mildew from poorly dried coats.
I probably blew my last chance
at opulence
and emotional bankrupcy
some time ago.
But counting pennies for bread
in the check out line
makes me feel good
as I have earned it.