Beta
Drunk and alone, beneath
the tree below the golden window
drunk to the point of wondering:
on the fag I pull.
I'm not cold here, just wondering
if the late bars you know
will still be serving
and if the last bus is gone.
My buttoned lip upon the Marlborough
as I a cowboy of night, waiting,
await your happy carnal laugh
and wonder why I stand awaiting.
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