Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Insignificant Moments

your lips tasted of vodka and blood

but I allowed you to leave

I stood smoking in the rain

as I watched the taxi carry you into the city

the people walk by with stony faces

carrying black umbrellas

I sat on the curb by the pub

the piano wrapped itself into my numbing toes

and my thoughts danced softly in the rain

drawing on my cigarette

I thought up poetry

but I didn’t write anything down

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