Ink

It’s hard to know quite where to start

Or when to pause or how to draw breath

Drawing the line at sketching my hands

Now it seems everything has to be art

Feeling like death in the life-class

You ate the banana taped to the wall

Then ignoring the mattress of wire on the floor

You slept in the sun in the park on the grass

Debating the merits of poodles as pets

You say if I’ll just stop being so entertaining

You’ll go and order one last carafe

And I can pop to the night shop for more cigarettes

So here I am with my rose tinted views

La Vie en Rose and all that

And here you are with your emerald green eyes

Your tousled hair and your black inked tattoos

Tales of girlfriends of boyfriends

In your hometown of hard men and mobsters

We finish the wine and take a last cigarette

Now you have to leave and go paint your lobsters

Finally I find myself lost for words

Finally stuck for an answer

There’s only the fading ink on the skin now

In the place where they first found the cancer

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