Sunday, May 13, 2007


i may sit the night entire, wrapped in hot rum and lemons, all floaty
on your window sill, to guard against the day, come roaming early,
come hungry for your favors,

i was down listening, maybe stealing clevers from the catholic boys,
hawking day old port to the crosstown freddies, when i smelled
your sweet confusions,

or was i selling tosca, giving whoopie to the pimps, and stopped
my indelicate perusals, sent those jollies on their way, for i would be
your hero


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