by John Gurney
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. Iím certain she cried when you told her. And what of the rest? Children scattered about like bar tabs of an alcoholic... In the end itís all the same bastard. Screw yourself next time that way no one will complain.