877

“you can kiss me
if you promise
to stay quiet”

those women at the bars
don’t know my name

i drink a bottle of whiskey
before i leave home
toast Bukowski
and my juvenile spirit

“you can touch me
if you promise not
to say anything -
let’s be quiet.”

her lover was upstairs

she tastes like gin

her sweat pushes my hair back

it’s five in the morning
i hallucinate on the porch
(chairs then dark squatting
children with green teeth
how do you like this?
talk to myself
for another hour)
i didn’t sleep

i see the white of her eyes
from the dim light of morning

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“if you promise
to stay quiet”

honey