Give Me a Minute

So, over at the ol' myspace, I told you that I was going to post a poem a day. Allow me to explain. My poetry is foul, rank, dreadful and awful. How do I know? The same way a woman expects folks to coo over her baby when she knows damned well it looks like a chimpanzee. Nonetheless, I refuse to let my words languish on the shelf. It's a matter of equal opportunity. I don't do it with the screenplays, plays or even- God help me- the erotica. No more will my poetry be the bastard stepchild of my literary pursuits! So, without further ado, my chimpanzee called "Give me a minute"

Just give me a minute
to gather my thoughts
I should probably head home
But I think I'd rather not

The air's light but tart
The cover's dotted with blood
The paper mat drips rhythmically
With that icky, unborn stuff

Can you give me a second
To settle my mind?
May I have another blanket?
May I have some more wine?

Stop making making faces at me
Because I don't think I can smile
Close the door on your way out
I'll just sit here for awhile