Three Jingling Coins

Three jingling coins in the pocket,
laundry on the floor;
beer bottles on the window pane –
one two, three, and four,
and there’s no whiskey to pour.
The kettle needs washing
to brew a cup of tea,
but there’s no soap to clean,
and nothing to eat;
as I stand, hungry and lean.
A beautiful woman on the phone
to write to,
but no words appear
on the screen
and the mind;
and the heart wears
the burden of contempt.
The cat I feed
has gone away;
there’s no milk.
The woman I love
has gone away too,
leaving the cigarette butts in the toilet
to be flushed;
I cannot –
the water bill is due.

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