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May 23, 2005
Love, Vodka, and Cigarettes
We are drinking Vodka with our tea
The sour tinge is fitting,
Sunday afternoons are a loss
between short phone calls,
and a town abondoned.
He is sad, benevelont,
the wound is warm, the pain not set
he braves conversations, brushes the paint
on the canvas and sips his tea
I am an old pro
and the hurt is obvious,
so we talk,
-Men have a way of sharing
Vodka and lost lovers,
Like characters out of WAR AND PEACE,
or BROTHERS KARAMAZOFF
naked in our Blue Brown uniforms
Wollen hats , and old guns
And the romance of cold mother Russia
But somehow CRIMES AND PUNISHMENT
seems more fitting,
Dastayovsky, or Maxim Gorky's heroes
are closer to the emasculated men
that we are--Modern animal males
with no treasures to hunt, no battles
No swords, wounds or honor
In Eighteenth century Paris
My brethern would have found
remedies abundant for heart brackes
In rouge powdered flesh of parisian whores
Or stolen kisses from a Major's wife
So we talk and share as the day is spent
We are bonding
The pain sedated by another bottle
another cigarette, a new story
--This will pass I remind him
there will be prettier girls
younger maidens, the thrill of new conquests
Passionate first kisses from other lips
all the cliches that i remember
But we both know
This will hurt
She stands in the hallway,
Moves closer, finds the door knob,
Cold in her hand, she holds hesitant,
she knows the distance between the door and the room
She knows his cologne, how he whisper talks,
the arch of his brow, his hair pulled away by his hand
she swallows the hurt, leaves the door knob, and runs out
--This will pass, I am still reminding him
There will be prettier girls, younger maidens..........
Posted by Idinraha at May 23, 2005 12:17 PM