Vices

i gave up some vices
for a while but got tired
of keeping track and let them back
into the dusty rooms they stay in
in my mind, banging doors
i say it's just the wind and we all
pretend, that i'm drinking less and
sleeping more, and not writing your
name on pieces of paper to burn
ceremoniously in rituals that won't stick
i have a friend over for breakfast
we drink dark coffee and bare our souls
just let them out for some air
then tuck em back into our pockets
where the seam is pulling away from
the seat of our jeans, wander down
the street the sun is out look at this
blue sky who cares about your drinking
and your tired heart it is shimmering so
sweetly and the air is full of birdsong
you can almost hear the green things
rustling, under the cold earth