THINKING KING KENNY ON QUEEN PATRICIA BAKARE - ONE YEAR REMEMBRANCE.
She is usually asleep When gently, noiseless you lower you Next to her, you Are sometimes numb By habit, the patina of self-indulgence From having too many drinks spinning the ceiling Promise as promises are to quit by the next outing The black frost of outsideness, being with the boys The pull, to get cuddled by them; the flattery and jabs To keep from not doing it one more day, chilly So, the resisting resilient walls of, 'not again,' crumbles, It was in all, an apostasy, of superficially bendable resolve Now, you are at the embankment Of bedclothes, where she used to be In sleep braces, her honied fragrance against Your mixture of all sorts of bad beer breath Slowly on the weakest days, you feel as if it was Her own warmth surfacing or the ferment of her Body like old, in the dark beneath the cover sheets Steals in; spilling into your consciousness bit by bit To break down that loneliness and the chills You turn to want to ...