the table
now shoved by the window
a dirty nick by
its right apron
grins
the urge to write
anything
insistent as the hiss
of the
broken
water closet
remember to speak
to the landlord
the need to forget
in this night
that the cold
comes back
things stuff hurts
the buddha
on the window ledge
plasticky
and shiny
smiles
i have to be writing
i don't know if
i am forgetting