the devil
the cooks
- joyce
slopery slip sliding talking remembering no can't solvering some mystery or other nor nother
tip trod toward tequila bar mexican settling wrestling and football t.v.
saloon door swing open music stop dead silent heat...
air broken by moustache laugh and step forward in
by back slap how-de-do and a welcome never felt so and much
belly up to clink glass accompaniment set to music of the spheres
and the pure joy of it all covers up, washes over, the pure truth:
the mind is past its glory
-the road is out before me
the moon is shinin' is bright
what i want you to remember
as i disappear tonight....
show me a poet
who didn't drink
and i will proudly
raise my glass
and toast
those shitty poems
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