False Friends

There’s nothing on the other side

Of this slice of pie

Just like the dress you want to buy

Began with nothing and

That slim bottle of cool white wine

Is a bridge between

Nothing and nothing

Now he arrives with doe eyes and hard hands

To be your everything

For an afternoon

You stole from nothing

And when he’s standing in the shower

You can wait on the wrinkled bed

A skin full of nothing

The next afternoon’s day dream will be a nice break from nothing

The trip you’re planning to a warmer place

Will be a relief from nothing

At the end of the day there is a plate of warm food and a television show

To take you somewhere until it’s time for bed

Your body needs its animal sleep

That’s something, you think

Someday we will have cheated death and that thief of hours, sleep, you think.

Won’t that be something?