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April 10, 2017 | by  | in Poetry |
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sazerac

at half past nine we drink cheap wine from the

bottle. the zest stays later when our fur

coats drip with courage. now I’m

dancing with a nameless girl — she’s wearing velvet and

everyone’s watching us cheek to cheek and I swear she’s

french (that’s why we don’t speak). soon we’re

going rogue doing lines pushed neat with a card what the

heck now she’s angry I did all her coke and back on the street

I’m rolling a joint by the

jazz café but it rains and the papers sog. this must be

karma my feet start to bleed and those

lines must be speed coz it’s six and I

miss an old lover so I call nine times just to chat but we

never just chat so we grit our teeth and talk small. it’s not like

old times but hey these are new now I’m

pressing ‘end’ as the sun’s coming up but there are

questions (will I remember tonight? are you  

really green?)

so I write it all down before trying to sleep.

tomorrow came early but it’s

usually late now it’s nine and I’m still very awake. I think of her

velvet and this energy rush won’t give me a rest

will I ever be the same? do I even e-

xist? my teeth are stained blue with

yesterday’s tricks. I feel like a lemon that’s missing its

zest.

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