Saturday, November 22, 2014

Oct 18 - Letters to Luna - Shot Glass

Sometimes you can put a pillow down
As you know you are about to knock a body to a floor
You can set the room; move the coffee table, or the night stand
Throw the goose feathers in a bag of parts upon the hard wood boards

Watches hit hours, hands strike midnight
Have to have a last call and leave some whiskey in the glass
Pound that column on the bar top for the tender to pitch to the sink
Sometimes a head needs the fresh air of street lights and car engines

That burn in the gut shifted from butterflies to wasps
The look in the other set of eyes is still bubbling honey and you are supposed to explain
Choice of words, how so, to deliver
Sometimes you can put a pillow down

Saves a lot of shattered metal, when the bones break
And a body gets up stunned numb racing out into the street
Gets run straight over like a tabby cat
Bloody in the hood of some other bastard just trying to make it home

Guts like paste drying like a neighborhood blood clot
Telling the officer what happened like point blank
Could have used a pillow mam, just a little cushion of elaboration
That the drink was not full of nothing

Makes a body give up living, dying a little bit each day
Thought the bottle had hope and it was nowhere, swigs of nowhere
Makes a man feel like the universe is all about filling up a shot glass
For just one sip; that is all a life needs, just one good sip

But women like you are like the reason the shot glass always tips
Always a reason, always a spill wishing for a pillow just once
To keep a few drops, to drink a few drops down and savor
Before the blood comes gushing from a body knocked out by a fender


Looking for his heart wailing at the moon 

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