all this week

all this talk of normative rhyme is making me sleepy.
‘I never really have been a fan of tradition,’ I tell myself,
and a smile gets forced to my lips

by my brain.

I am an alcoholic, because I want a drink now
and nearly always.

I am in love because I close my eyes and think of you. this is
all wrong.

alright, let’s dance a little, watch Frasier till we sleep,
surf with clothes off, on someone’s bed, not our own.
you be Roz, I’ll be the stranger.

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