Something Climbing September 22

Standing limp in the middle
of Satellite road,
we have chosen a venue to fight.
From bare teeth to vernacular abuse-swamps
this is the night we get it off
our chests.

Why do I say anything?
Why do I pretend it doesn’t matter?
Why does she over-react?
A car goes boom flat-tire
smoking a cigarrette after three-months
you are no longer expecting?

Rules change too fast
keeping you happy is the game.
What if the wind blew me away
all my white flags my nonchalance my sand.
How will you dry your angry tears then
your jealous signs-of-hurt
your feelings of no-purpose.