ON THE NIGHT OF CONCEPTION

When you left
did you remember to turn out the lights?
Did you take a last look
from the window of that hotel
to the streets below...

Did you see the people walking
as they may
on a fine Spring day
when the grass
has just begun to turn from brown to green
when the first crocus and tulips
sprang shoots of emerald
through damp clay to the sky
proclaiming
the certainty of suns warmth...

Did you wash your hands
or shower?
Did you cleanse yourself
for that day
was it enough?
Did you care at all
for what was left behind
what could never be returned
or was it all
cold and sterile
like the polished steel
of your well kept surgeons tools.

I’m certain she cried when you told her.

And what of the rest?
Children 
scattered about
like
bar tabs of an alcoholic...

In the end
it’s all the same
bastard.

Screw yourself next time
that way
no one will complain.