A phone number written on a Lucky Strike.
I never did call because I lost it years ago.
A former boss wrapping a diamond watch three times
around my upper arm; its meaning I could not know.
A girl I fucked on a couch outside in the rain;
& the wet, wet cushions shouldered the blame.
Pissed by a grocery store & faded into the highway's roar,
said you looked like a golden shower angel; maybe I lied.
Vomited in a bucket I threw away the next day,
with that dried-up flower bouquet I didn't want.
downstairs, a church basement, with youth group boy eyes
staring me up & down, I am askin' which door is unlocked.
I smelled sweet & rotten, like molding honeydew;
world turned on it's axis while I turned off again.
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