"Easy come, easy"
I really love the things
that you do. You’re a boy.
Well, my glass is empty.
Who’s fault is it you drank
it up. You’re hot, wanna
move to Denver and hang
with me a bit. I’m not
gonna do that. Why not?
God, you didn’t order
anything to go. No?
(Can an outsider sit
infield and consider
the changing summer breeze
on an unworn horizon?)
“Close cover • Strike gently”
Can I get a lager
from you Ash? Bottle, draft?
From you, just bottle please.
Bottle? Please. Salt and lime?
No lime, please, and no salt.
As you wish. Have you seen?
Well of course. It’s a shame.
Why? Virgin eyes are green
and brimming ignorance.
It never is blissful
anyway. Hot damn. So,
I won’t take another.
I believe you’re both drunk
and lying. So wrong, Ash.
“Keep away from children”
Fuck me then, don’t drink this
shot. Or this. Or here, gin.
I hate it. Who doesn’t?
Alcoholics. Exactly.
Good one, that. Oh hush up.
Why do you even come?
The waking of winter
in my dry skeleton.
That’s just booze muddying
the waters of regret
so even tangerine
lake-floors bleed cinnabar.
No more, then? Not from me.
Goodnight, Ash. Tomorrow?