Potato Soup

by Ralkkai

Potato soup heats in a crock pot
in the kitchen
and Monday is lazy.
The sun hangs like a shadow
in the early skies of May
as we watch reality TV stream
over Netflix
and I am nervous anxious silly.

We waste the day away
and plans fall through and
we owe money to the movie store
and the library
and no one knows Bukowski.
This is the law of Canyon, Tx-
to not know how to fall over the words.

A show about a married couple is on.
“His sperm count went back up”
My wife, remarked.
I can only think of all the countless lines
i wasted on past love
and what an honor it
would have been to share all
those words
for her instead.

I have missed all the good moments
until now.
We watch tv tonight,
and I write on the couch
The apartment smells like potato soup
and the world turns and the world turns and the world turns.

My love is thoughts of her
in words that never quite rhyme.
It is a shame really,
that I ignored them until now.

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