Friday, January 8, 2010

dollars are just dollars

the quality of our surroundings
hangs heavily in the air
spilling drunks into the parking lot
to stumble towards their cars,
memory sated for the evening
smelling of the kind of thick, stale smoke
only old bars can achieve
the scent of an affair
in a cheap motel room
that's never cleaned
in between its lovers
we watch them go,
empty wallets in fist
our wording wending,
into the next set of ears

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