Golden

Sometimes my idea of a perfect gentleman
is that guy with the impressive music collection
playing the same damned song five times in one night
just because I asked
and Tom Waits might as well be God.
Sometimes it's him with the pouch of tobacco
rolling two cigarettes instead of just one
when I've drunk too much to do it myself.
Or loaning me that Bukowski book I hadn't read in six years
and trusting that I'll actually be back to return it
even though we just met two days ago.
The smile on his face while I'm riding his golden tongue...
And no expectations, you know?
Just life.
Living.
Feeling.
Hell, even bleeding.
So how about grabbing that bottle of red...
Let's open the mother
and see where things go from there.