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May 02, 2005
Le Dale #1
city of rain
wears down the interior
defense
its either
pin pricks
or hand grenades
the film
over my skin;
a straight jacket
braided by wasps
spring buds
bloom, swell
in strange places
dead zones
monochromatic landscapes
100 proof avenues
with mangled sidewalks
confessions spilling from barstools
whores in doorways
inviting you
to stay away
cab rides to nowhere
for 8 hours of nothing
beads; faded
by the reign of the sun
by exhaust
they hang like the dead
from the arms of oak trees
I spy them from rickety streetcars
from cast iron balconies
hotel room windows
where I sit and catch the rain
cradle it in my palm
draw on
a bottle of vodka
waiting
for whatever comes
after the rain
Posted by Drexler at May 2, 2005 12:45 PM