a Pocket Full of Poinsettias

it was in the last minutes of that night
the end of that day
before
blurring into the next one
and the one following.
an ocean was pouring out of my palms
shaking
cold sweat
running down my back
so
i sneaked a hit to calm me down
keep my nerves in check
she stood behind me- off to my right
holding the poems
in a tiny neat stack
against her soft milky skin
the night was burning inside of me
life was tugging at my pant leg
wanting me to come along
so i did.
i medicated myself properly
before entering the "asylum"
one jack
to wash down 3 caffeine tablets
and a cigarette to balance it all out
i'm ready now i think
now wait.
ok lets go
bring in the animals!
let them gather around!
i walked up onto the soap box
which made for a makeshift stage
she handed me the poems
and i destroyed the neat stack in a matter
of seconds
her smile was comforting
and
with that
the sweating stopped
the shaking ceased
and i pulled out the bottle
took a slug
and remembered this time
the first time
that i
began to read to all of you
"This poem is called "a Pocket Full of Poinsettias"
and it goes:
it was in the last minutes of that night... ...