Where is my whiskey
glass now, broken on
the floor under me
like a country song?
Will I two-step through
the jagged pieces
with a lost woman,
no clue who she is?
I don't think I'll dance
tonight. Just clean it
up, adjust my pants,
and meander out.
I'll slump back to my
truck, dropping the night.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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