I gave up last week.  It was Thursday.           I drove

to the Trainwreck Saloon after class,             instead

of home.          I stayed too long       drank too much;

I haven’t done that                                         in years.

 

Asking for help with                              my marriage

had become                                                Sisyphean.

Just one more              beer,                 hoping family

would be in bed          when I got home.       Driving

 

for another beer                        to release feelings of

the past month;

I haven’t done that                                         in years.

I sat in front of            our house          with that beer,

 

tugging against strings of her puppetry.  I  held  two

jobs for half our marriage (she had yet to work one)

and      recently,          endured                    outbursts

 

of screaming       in support of            her new friend.

My well           of patience                   had run dry.  I

got out of the car and walked towards the house like

 

it was on fire

 

and I was the only responder.                  It was after

midnight,                          the full-moon shadow was

a bottomless-black pit                     that followed me

inside.