big drunk strides
like falling forever
but somehow with

u n i n t e n t i o n a l g r a c e

every step lands
with the confidence
of a person who doesn’t know
and doesn’t care
(or an idiot, we’re not sure which)

jump from the window
two stories up
and flow to the earth
with a smile stitched
from ear to ear
like Icarus without wings
failing to see
that gravity of it all

everyone is far away
in this too small room
filled with smoke and
butter knives with blackened ends
and you are like a ghost
because you are there
but not really…just mist

what’s this?
straight up the nose it goes
and then a taxi with someone
(who is that?)
to nowhere
(where are we going?)
as the cab takes off
the head stays where it was
and then snaps back to you
about 10 or 20 seconds later

how is it possible
you remember any of this
and have forgotten
so much that was important?
you misplaced your trench coat
that night;
so sad to have lost it –
like losing your skin
and walking around naked;
a capeless Batman – vulnerable

then on new year’s eve
brandishing bottles of Chateau Nevada
while she, this unknown, hung on too close
laughed too loud and bullied you to dance
until midnight came and we yelled as we toasted
as she looked at you and said “Well?”
and you were too stupid to know for moment
but then caught on – “Naw, i think i’m headin’ out”
and stumbled away…just like that

still, there was sun the next morning
as she sat with you and a dozen others
glaring death and ice and a thousand hateful thoughts
while we ate a greasy breakfast for kings
and gathered late to quietly consume
preparing for the coming of night
when the siren voices of Jon Anderson and Jim Morrison
would beckon us to the alter again
to light this strange Moroccan incense
and continue the cycle forever


at least to the end of the year

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