I lie when
I drink -
I’m not drinking
he drinks -
flowers
bend to rain
more reason to weep
--drunk
without a dog
(for Deanna)
some mornings shimmer golden –
red hair framing flesh
in last night’s dream
eating chips
& writing poems
with salty fingers
our parrot
sweet talks my wife
in another man’s voice
bsolarczyk@comcast.net
Excellent as always, Bart.
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