Dark & Stormies


our asses numb from hours on the bench,

smoky tongues rolling out ringing words as

pat, pit, pat–from the drainpipe–

rum-ginger burning our throats,

tipsy but not seeing double, fired up

in the darkness, cool breezes caressing

our cheeks as we make plans

to take over the world,

listen to 90’s pop songs,

and inhale the damp

electric dusty air

till whoo, whoo, whoowhoowhoo

call the cardinals,

and we slump off to slumber.


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