Friday, April 22, 2011

Hangover 3

I saw you in the hallway mirror, the way
the sheets broke on your legs
as you swam across the bed.
Submerged in the airless bubble
of intoxication, you breathed noise
like a tern
searching for its mate on the beach.

Yew argh at rue poe et, sir. Such skill fool deploy mint of sublime mated fricatives is to be heartily commended and artfully recommended.

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