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Click hereWalked into the bar
half-drunk
By the time I sat
fresh drink in hand
I knew,
there was no one.
A mass of drab black
hair, clothes, tattoos
But
crouched in the corner
Eyes darting -
(till they met mine)
Squatting,
The only notable specimen
He came over
in a ripped white-T
earphones around his neck
beer bottle in hand
Smiling
Bryan
"I just moved here yesterday
from Va.
and I figured,
what the
hell so
I came over."
"How
do you like it
so far?"
"Well, I'm
trying
to kick
Heroin, so..."
We both laughed
mirth
full of
"Let's see," I said
He stretched out his
arms twisted his
wrists almost
the whole way round,
Still
smiling
He wasn't kidding
either
Scabs and brusies
Unforgiving
I wanted to run my fingers
down those arms
lick my lips
Nails picking at the scabs
kiss his neck
But
instead
we laughed
at life
"The pot in this town is insane,"
he told me,
"That and the alcohol helps"
He asked me
to go
and smoke some
over
where he was staying
I, like an asshole
ever so politely
declined
too smart
too sane
too scared -
to do much
more than
flirt
with death.
...but from what I can tell, your narrative poetry works best (Heroin Boy, Joe "Lick My Balls" Garett). In these works your ability to tell a story garners you admission to The Torn Nylon, that poetry dive at the end of the block. Something like "4:34 a.m.," not so much. In your non-narrative poems you don't use the vocabulary or turns of phrases that could "pull 'em off" (so to speak). Now, you could indeed work and work and work on your non-narrative verse and eventually it would get to the same wonderful level as your narrative scribblings, but why bother? Your narrative work is pretty damned good as is and it evokes (in my mind at least) the wonderful writing of the late great Cookie Mueller. I say go with your strengths, grrl. Best regards, -maximo
I've been there... But, I fell in love. Took me two and a half years to get away from both. Could have been longer.