1502

I’m hallucinating

and kissing the coffee pot.

It’s another Saturday night.

To the top.

Suddenly.

Rattlesnake eyes.

See Blake and his groupies.

See a black eye and opposite sides.

See what it’s like to collide.

But not me.

Now I’m the

stranger writing recipes

on boxes of cookies

holding my cock and a megaphone.

But not you.

Nobody has blamed

the aftertaste.

It’s just the wrong time.

Oh.

Another Saturday

and a lover

who won’t

…

I just want someone

to love me

when I’m sober.