Gargoyle Eyes

You stood me up; leaning against the wall outside your front door like a garden rake with a barbed wire bouquet digging into my bleeding palm. You looked through the peep hole with your gargoyle eyes once at midnight to see if I was still propped properly, wanting me to fold up my soul like a lawn chair, tuck my paper thin heart in my billfold like a losing lottery ticket and make for the horizon where the stars in their yellow nighttime underpants where licking the foam off the Guinness sky. I’m here. I’m still here, I cried but still you didn’t come and so I left. And you know as I drive along this highway and look through the hole rusted in the floor of my Oldsmobile I see your gargoyle eyes staring up at me. I think about reaching down, risking my digits to touch your stone cold stare but suddenly the reason I’d lost floats up in my cup of coffee and I drink it in. Bitch, I say and pour the rest of my coffee down the rusted out hole. I look in the rearview mirror as your stare rises up into the steam cloud that forms in the cold blue morning sky over the lonely highway. I drive all day and all the next night not for any reason other than I want to get away from you. I ain’t ever coming back gargoyle eyes. You only get to stand me up once. Sweet stony dreams my love.