Wool Over The Eyes

 
you’re five beers deep at a party

and you’re disappointed 

and you don’t
know anyone but you’re fine, you’re fine,


you’re not lonely, 

you’re dancing with your
eyes shut and someone’s hands are tracing
your hips and you take him home, 

imaging 
his hands another hands,

 his lips
 another lips. 

you’re in a taxi, street lamps


a whirlpool of caramel lozenges, 

and the 
bill is more than you have on your card 
but you’re fine, you’re fine, 

and you’re in 
the self help aisle of the book store but
 everything is okay, 

and you just keep telling


yourself you’re fine, 

just keep pretending
 it’s alright, 

you’re burning eggs in the fry pan


and ordering too much take out and watching 
day time television

and pretending it’s okay


really it is all okay 

i’ll be fine 

i’m fine