to Portland for donuts,
maple bacon. I'll sit
on the curb in the rain
and flip out, man,
coffee and donut
like absinthe and
I'll write a poem
about a blurry, blurry
night, smear my lipstick,
then sing the national anthem
before cutting off my ear
which I'll post to you,
post to you,
notice I say 'post.'
drg o9
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