By: Donald Buhl-Brown

I invited her over tonight,
to hang out I said.

The trash is overflowing in my bins,
my clothes are littered across my floor.
More dirty than clean,
the same for the clothes on my body.

I shouldn’t have invited her over,
I shouldn’t have done it.

She would come over and clear off my desks and pick up my clothes,
and take out my overflowing trash.
I would drink.
Then she’d pick up the week old beer bottles and throw them away.

Give me a kiss, she would say.
And then I’d see her again, next time I wanted to hang out.
Or at least when I wanted a clean apartment.