glass

by John Grochalski

yesterday morning i woke up
and knocked my water glass on the bedroom floor

and it shattered all over the place

five in the morning
and i already had something to do

but this is symptomatic

two days ago i swept the kitchen
and there was glass underneath a cabinet

two long, thin shards from wine glasses
that i’d broken a month before

some nights
i’ll stumble through the apartment
and feel a little pinch in my foot

when i sit down to check it out
they’ll be blood and glass embedded in a toe

i’ll wonder where it came from this time

either a pint glass
or one of those pyrex dishes
that shattered when it fell off the sink

i break wine bottles
and beer bottle en route to various locations

i can’t begin to count the number of times
i’ve had to go back into the store to buy more booze
because i tripped and fell outside
leaving crimson or amber puddles in my wake

it’s like i’m cursed with glass
it’s not even a drunk thing

when i was a kid i ran through a glass window
and ended up in a cast with tendon damage that never healed

it’s all because of glass
that i have to lift my left leg when i walk

the day i got the cast off
i tripped and fell and sliced my finger on a shattered ash tray

i don’t like glass
hell, i don’t even like sand

but using plastic is like making a deal with the devil

my drinks taste funny
out of a plastic tumbler
and plastic is no fun when you throw it against a wall

so glass and i are stuck together
until science comes up with something better

i guess i’ll keep picking the shards out of my rough flesh
due to my stupidity

buying second bottles of wine
being extra careful when i shut the broken windows

and at night when i get up to piss
and my hallway glitters like diamonds in the moonlight

i’ll just pretend that i’m rich

instead of a fat klutz
who needs to watch his step.