Wednesday, January 18, 2006

I collapsed into a pile
of Kennedy half-dollars
and everyones voice sounded like tv
show about the building of Babylon
and the rest of the wasteland
that is long island
and I listened intently
to the shape of the vowels
knew that I'd never get
that beer open
with that spoon
and someone tapped a rhythm
on my belt and I wished I could dance
don't dry that spill
we may die of thirst

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