& a poem
10.07.04
you come home too early
and you never say how it's been
you just ask me
you cook me food
and put so many spices in
but I don't like the taste
so I give it to the dog
you fake fatigue
I know very well that you're thinking
although I wish I knew of what
and while I listen to your
calculated breathing
I wonder if it really is
all happy-sunshine-good
or if you're just an actor
and I'm one too
but I've just forgotten that
we are playing pretend
(back.)