Pork Chops – A Poem

Pork Chops

I can tell by the way you burnt the pork chops
that it’s over
and how you roll your glazed eyes
as I tell you right now
that you know I hate legumes in my salad
the acrid smell of your cheap wine
still lingers
in your plastic cup
you poured my beer in
all head
and hops
under the light of Cuban music rolling
into the cavity left in the wall
where I tried to install
a big screen TV and said it was
to see in HD the wrinkled aggression
of the players when I watched football
and silent films
but it was really because you said you hate
and liked to read in peace
while war invaded your shower
and took the soap
okay that was me
where are my keys
yes the ones to the Cherokee
I will be taking it but
I’ll leave a note at the door
to let the mattress know how much I will miss its company
when I leave.


6 thoughts on “Pork Chops – A Poem

  1. Had a chuckle at the part where the speaker admits being “the war that invaded the shower and took the soap.” I guess this is an address to a roomie. I may be wrong too.

    • Thanks for the comment. No, not really a personal address. I thought up the first line about burnt pork chops being an indicator to the end of a relationship. It was to be somewhat humorous, so I am glad that you got a chuckle out of that part.

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