Friday, May 17, 2013

Hungover, Waffle House, Early Afternoon

Day drops trow into Maxwell's House like a roachbrick
Morning-glory popping bacon-grease into funnybones.

I suddenly become attracted to the Waffle House waitress
Who smells like underwear drinking water through a straw.

These days life smells like a tree of cheap gags
But I've made a certain peace with liquid diets

And toothless jokes are just one of the many uppers
I'd buy for a dollar and some change

I know now will probably never come,
Since I'm not as good at fucking others as myself.

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