I'm No Monk

I smile when I can 

about good news, 

sunsets, 

the faces babies make 

in super markets, 

laugh in the evening 

with a girl 

who laughs back 

and smiles over 

dinner while we watch television. 

In the evening, we sleep 

together under blankets, 

touch skin, 

hold each other 

until we both go to work 

in the morning. 

I work, 

pay bills, 

earn simple man wages, 

enjoy simple man pleasures. 

I drink bottle beer and 

smoke workingman cigarettes. 

Sometimes late at night, 

I watch my alarm clock 

and feel time is running out. 

Other times, I regard the moon tattoo 

inked in galaxies of freckles on her shoulder 

and listen to her weak snores 

while distant sirens moan 

like banshees yawning 

midnight sorrows 

on blank streets.