Near the Close

You always sat at peace
in an immaculate space ,Whilst
I listened to the taps whistling,
soflty
Elbows on the little square,
of a filthy counter.

And so I looked at every nervy look
with a heedless gaze that says;
don't speak to me,
see.
don't you give me those unabashed ways
I know you'll sit at peace , Whilst
I'll tear canvases through and
pour away bottles of black inks
in fury
To stain your immaculate space.

Don't give me that look, I know,
that you'll walk quietly,
as I pace a thousand steps,
disquieted,
Then flick one by one,
crumbs of tobacco
off of the tables and sheets ,
drawing on the twenty second cigarette
I smoke that night,

stupid