Vodka dripping out of her rib cage! She said it, not me.
I’m not a violent thinker, or, rather I lie. Or, ah, I lay

a series of a bad metaphors and hyperbole. ‘Such is Life’
tattooed on an inner thigh, well above knee high.

I’m more of a whiskey man, we’re whiskey men, you and I.
Was the window cracked? Was the rain spilling in? These
are the details one wishes to imagine, but upon revisiting

the scene you can only recall: an over-sized pullover
sweater; a necklace, maybe jeweled; freckles; intimate
knowledge on the mundane. Where were they? Yes.
They were there.

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