Southern Stare

I woke up in a jar to the stench of the night before
Outside the glass there's:
A telephone off the hook
A notepad with spilled ink
And
A love letter never sent
It was a sweaty little summer
Drops of sex and fear run down my head
And my breath
Oh, it fogs the glass.
I left behind a single fingerprint
And went back to sleep to forget my regrets.