The Monologue

It’s late and my words are gone
and I’ve nothing to add to anything I’ve said
and most of them are gone into some kind of—
and here we are, you and I, and we have words
and here am I and there are you—
look: words—red and gold too—no wait, please, sit,
please wait, sit, stay, good dog, of course I’m drunk,
talk to me, I’m listening, talk to me—
we’ll grab the words by their necks
cause there’s always something behind them—
tell me about, you know, this thing you have—
oh look more nuts—
tell me something else, thoughts, dreams, I was young once—
I know, I know: you’ll say you gave up on me
and I’ll say you had nothing to give up on,
ha, ha, ha, that’s funny as hell, just like Bob Dylan—
hey! the bartender took another one—
wait, son, wait: sit down.
Look.  They can almost see us.
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11 Responses to The Monologue

  1. Scent of my heart says:

    Interesting monologue, I like your thoughts!

  2. fiveloaf says:

    lovely and nice words you chose.. thank you for sharing! here’s my potluck.. http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2010/06/19/my-whole-world/

  3. Jingle says:

    smart words..
    welcome …

    A++

  4. booguloo says:

    Hic.. Outstanding.. tic

  5. danroberson says:

    Words that convey hidden meanings while being drunk often bring out truths.

  6. Great monologue…I’m trying to imagine who you’re talking to. But it is late!

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