Back to Joseph Mishler's Artist PageTo the Artist's Page     Back to the Unlikely Stories home pageTo our home page
Under CanvasTo Joseph Mishler's previous piece


Portrait of Myself in First Marriage

My underarms are rashed.
The kind of accident where
the seatbelts do more injury
than the crash.

Blood on my neck.
I wave a waitress away,
"Honestly, it's okay
I cut myself in the men's room,
shaving."

My handwriting is
an imitation of my dad's
when I write a fake plate number
and phone on a prescription pad.

I'd just wanted to go to the Steakhouse
and eat fried appetizers alone.
I pull out into the strip mall night,
all the neon, comatose.

I come home, she's been reading
the page on my typewriter.
That's how she knows I'm a liar.
I can't argue, I tell her I'm sleeping off a concussion.

To the top of this pageTo the top of this page