By Riggs
Date: 18 July 2000
Poem for a Broken Man
In an anonymous truck stop restroom,
Noel is fighting a war, against his trembling lips.
And losing.
White knuckled hands clamp around the rim of a white porcelain basin.
He feels sick,
the sort of dull illness that comes from being kicked in the guts.
So dizzy....
Tears mark glistening trails down his dirty stubbled face.
Where will he go from here?
What do you do when the last six years of your life,
have just been declared null and void?
It's an image not easily forgotten.
The blonde woman, his woman,
wearing only one of his shirts.
Held together by a solitary button near her midriff.
And a peculiar expression,
consisting of equal parts horror, guilt and surprise.
And that anonymous shitheel,
on his hands and knees,
desperately seeking his underwear.
Don't leave she said.
Please don't leave sweetheart.
SWEETHEART!!!??
Feeling desperately ill Noel stares into the restroom mirror.
Puffy red eyes stare back.
In stark contrast to his sheet white face.
Noel wonders where she stamped his use by date.
With horrible indifference he pulls the gold band from his finger.
And tosses it into the basin.
He will go on,
He will survive,
For better or worse
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