aspirin bottle
aspirin bottle
on the nightstand
mingling
with the alarm clock
and my insomnia
a sure sign
that i’ve been drinking
too much again
this aspirin bottle
reflecting in the
moonlight
shows me a lack of stamina
age creeping in
inability becoming manifest destiny
like my legs getting tired
on the walk to work
falling asleep
on the couch
to a bad book or movie
this aspirin bottle
housing the little white pill
that i must take
for the headaches
for the unrepentant hangovers
this plastic green bottle
that hasn’t left
the nightstand in months
that just plain sits there
like a statue
like home decor
like a harbinger of doom
a glittery talisman
or a beacon
letting me know
how much
i’m pushing
and pushing
and that the world
will only
push back harder
with each new
and passing
day.
Bio: John Grochalski is the author of two books of poems The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008) and Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010). Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where he constantly worries about the high cost of everything.
Bio: John Grochalski is the author of two books of poems The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008) and Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010). Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where he constantly worries about the high cost of everything.
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