Smoke-stung, my eyes squint through incense,
nose itches from patchouli and a sage ash catcher.
She lays lovers reversed and a hermit upright
over glass rings from bourbon and ice.
And by God I'm ready--
ready to rebound and see some action
or string someone on though the U.S. Mail
or kiss on a face huddled close and easy,
ready to hurt again as the old hurt fades
sitting long alone with empty sentiments in poems
when a bed and warm skin leaves me giddy for days.
So let's drink to forget and get fired ‘cause we forgot
to go to work. Lady lean your parts over here
and deal those cards again.
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