Notebook Poet

I am
a college-ruled
notebook
poet,
and that
means
desperation.

There’s nothing
sexy about
it.

There are no
turtlenecks;
no click.ity.
cl.ack.
snap.s
in wine bars;
no exposed brick
cigarette-leashed
smokers;
no whoops and cheers
or laughs
or jeers;
no dressed up
double-breasted
suits;
in fact,
no breasts
at
all.

My audience is
a silent swirl
of bourbon,
the vapors
eminently sweet;
the cars outside
sighing
by;
the pipes
whispering
in the walls
as water–
even
against gravity–
leaves me
too.

I hate you
more than
I love you
tonight.

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