Plastered
by Scott Urban

i leaned against the wall
counting the cigarette burns
and couch stains that
made up my goodwill life

and couldn't come up
with a decent reason not to,
so i just sank into it,
the wall, that is--yes,
infused it, permeated it

my molecules mingling with drywall
my atoms merging with two-by-fours

and now i look out through
eyes of sears semi-gloss
and sigh with pleasure when someone
sinks a plug in my socket

the girl staggers through
the room at random,
crying my name and
asking where i've gone

she pounds her forehead
against me--the wall, that is--
the gentlest touch i've felt in,
oh, a year or two

Scott H. Urban lives and writes, appropriately enough, on Cape Fear (North Carolina). His stories, poems, and reviews appear regularly in print and electronic media. He is the author of three poetry collections, Night's Voice, Skull-Job, and the newly released Sporting on Graves (Nepenthe Books, Via Dolorosa Press). A story collection, Bloody Show, is due out by the end of the year.