i sound my barbaric - belch -
well, almost as poetic, i think,
wishing i hadn't got the chick beer
wishing i hadn't cheaped out, bought a good
bottle of dry white whine instead.
thinking about the city and how i will
forever
be drawn to it but forever
hate it
for licking its lips at the sky and belching in the presence of stars.
i concentrate on a dark space between street lamps.
let it lick its teeth at me,
take another sugar swig.
4-22-07
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