between the devil and the deep blue sea

i was superstitious once. it was late, i couldn't see.
i slipped myself something
a little hot something
now i crack bones and hands like so many binder clips.

i don't like running my bare feet over painted floorboards
warped with spilled beer and careless staggered fingerprints.
i don't like fingerprints.

running down the pull string you left hanging
the knob and tube tightening the brown softwoods in my craggy attic.
i hit my head on it again.

you can touch all the corners
and never make a square.
i know.
i watched you.

i'd give you back two fingers if you'd shake my hand.
but that wealth
is out the window and down the street .

touch nothing and remain
as empty as the eyes you throw at me.
and i'll still ask you to look.

i'll still turn out the light.