Enhanced Representation

We had criss-crossed feet and bloodshot eyes.

            And no one ever spilled the salt.

Even though the road was covered in ice.

But you, of course, would never waste so much salt.

            On something as trivial as ice.

Because that’s not how you were raised.

They were hospital corners,

And they were always crisp.

But you never even needed a watch.

And your hands were cold,

            But you knew the signs.

It was enhanced representation.

Your feet were always on the ground;

            Never on the table.

They constantly moved.

And you’d comfort and you’d scold

In a cocauphony of toungues

No one could consider loving.

            But we did.

The diamond wind chimes blew outside.

            But you didn’t even pay attention.

                        They didn’t seem to matter.

So with a handful of pills,

And a glass full of scotch,

            You’d finish out the day.

And even though our feet were criss-crossed,

And our eyes were bloodshot;

            Yours weren’t.