Finality

She calls
me up
and tells me
it's
all over.
I can
hear
the hatred
in her
voice.
I beg,
I plead;
she tells me
I've
pushed it
too far.
We
hang up
and I
walk
outside
to smoke.
I look up
at a
bright, blue
Florida
skyline.
I'm
all alone
again.
A bird
flies
over my
head
as I blow
out
a cloud
of smoke.
Maybe
there is
someone
else
out there
in some
strange
bar
downtown.
Something,
someone,
anything.
I walk
back inside
and
crawl into
bed.

2004

I am
drunk
on vodka;
a punk
band
plays
in the
room
next
door.
The noise
rattles
the walls.
I head
to the
toilet:
I throw
up
a little.
My head
spins
back
and forth
like a
clock.
I check
my face
in the
mirror:
dirty
blonde
emo
hair,
bags
under my
eyes.
I sip
my drink
and look
down
at the
white
tiles.
There
are
shoe prints
all
over
the floor.
I close
my eyes
and pray
to God
she's
not
pregnant.
I finish
my drink
and go
back
outside.

Spring

A young
blonde
stands
on the
corner,
waiting
for her
ride
home from
work.
The sun
shines
onto her
hair,
soft
and
immaculate.
I see
her
from the
corner
of my
eye
and blow
a cloud
of smoke
into
the air.
My shoes
feel
old
and damp.
I keep
walking.
She gets
into
a car
and drives
away.
You can't
always
get
what you
want.

Fish Food Magazine

Two of my old poems, "The Plague" and "Mutants", have been re-published in Fish Food Magazine. You can view them here: http://www.fishfoodmagazine.com/the-plague-mutants-robert-zeman

Poetry Superhighway

Once again, I was selected as Poet of the Week by Poetry Superhighway. You can view my work here: http://poetrysuperhighway.com/psh/