Distraction

I don't write all night
like I used to
and it worries me;

the less I have to say,
the more the guy
down the hall

appeals to me, the way
soul eyed tough guys
always have

sent me back to writing.
I am a parasite
sucking the marrow

from a heartache
I've already agreed upon;
anticipating

all that will precede it
and the fallout from which
there is no shelter.