Drinking Under the Moon

"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh


Roll me another, roll on roll on.

Kiss a filter between your lips,

cradle it gently in plush fleshy pillows

wombed in nicotine breath and moistened by your muffled speech.

Wrap tobacco in its starched duvet,

like a spider cocooning an angry prey.

Large careless fingers gently wrestle – a little shake, a little jostle.

to tame this mass of mahogany curls.

Caress it sweetly into bed,

A foreplay of fingering before you put in the head.

A sigh sucks in the caramel ash,

but shes bitter and twisted and gone in a flash.


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