by A.g. Synclair
my drinking buddy
got piss drunk
lost
his erection
his desire to fuck
and his dinner
before
passing out
and hitting the floor
with a dull
sickening thud.
so we drank his Jack
his convulsions
made me queasy
but she
smelled like sex
and he
wasn't dead
so I grabbed the bottle
put my hand
between her legs
and led her to my room.
September 10, 2009
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2009
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September
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- Name-checking Billy F***in Collins
- subject to availability at selected stores
- An Irish Enclave
- an afternoon
- dusty villa and a few cans of beer
- gritty plaza rainbow
- Open Book
- I’ll Paint You in Words
- what we’ve been doing with ourselves
- RIPE
- MOONLIGHT NIGHT: WINTER
- kathleen turner
- untitled grief on a september afternoon
- Parking Lot
- the broken stripper
- Public Restroom
- Bringin' Home the Bacon
- Only Darkening
- Someone to Talk to
- Girl Cuffed
- Poems Like Jackson Mac Low
- The Media Is The Message
- WHY I DON’T FUCK MY WIFE ANYMORE
- with friends like me...
- MY AFTERNOONS WITH DYLAN THOMAS
- The Neighbor’s Daughter
- It’s a Good Night for Drinking
- plan b
- WATCHING TV
- IN THE END
- Dirty Librarian
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September
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2 comments:
TOUCHDOWN!
the smell of sex will get you everytime
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