I picked my poison

Whiskey sweats through my pores
My feet find sway, move my hips
my god the booze warms my cunt
I search for food-- you
focus on your crotch, now you
You are a drink I want to try again
And while your girl is outside
Fellating her Newport 100 slim
I am fingering your belt loop
Contemplating
Helping myself to a nice piece of you



I am not here
To discuss the past or talk at all
If talk is all you want,
I will bend over the bar
show you another mouth
I will relish that conversation
dangle your participles
mismatch your modifiers
waiting to be spliced by your comma



She interrupts
"what's SHE doing here,"
looking at me, rolling eyes
through spiky mascara lashes
she grabs your arm
drags you out by your dick
Wrapped tightly in acrylic fingertips



Three drinks later, phone rings
"my apartment twenty minutes"
answer uttered through my other mouth
"yeah" as my feet shuffle stagger
neon runs down the street
painting advertisements in toxic lemonade
I continue down main street
Craving my shameless concoction