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Wondering
 
II.
Hands reek of mayonnaise,
Jalapeno peppers stings the paper cut on my finger.
 
Stir two packs of sweet n low in pink lemonade 
in booth seat window of Subway
 
& wonder if you've made it home yet.
Sift through Polaroid photos of myself,
 
through old, bad poems, 
self- addressed stamped envelopes 
 
to literary magazines
& think of you in the bathroom, 
 
throwing up on yourself 
from too many drugs, too much Tanqueray and Tonic.
 
Flip a penny into a frying pan 
soaking off caked on scramble egg 
 
wishing I was there as the sober, 
drunk free driver to fly you home.
 
Wish I were the hand
holding Kleenex
 
to your runny nose.

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