at half past nine we drink cheap wine from the
bottle. the zest stays later when our fur
coats drip with courage. now I’m
dancing with a nameless girl — she’s wearing velvet and
everyone’s watching us cheek to cheek and I swear she’s
french (that’s why we don’t speak). soon we’re
going rogue doing lines pushed neat with a card what the
heck now she’s angry I did all her coke and back on the street
I’m rolling a joint by the
jazz café but it rains and the papers sog. this must be
karma my feet start to bleed and those
lines must be speed coz it’s six and I
miss an old lover so I call nine times just to chat but we
never just chat so we grit our teeth and talk small. it’s not like
old times but hey these are new now I’m
pressing ‘end’ as the sun’s coming up but there are
questions (will I remember tonight? are you
really green?)
so I write it all down before trying to sleep.
tomorrow came early but it’s
usually late now it’s nine and I’m still very awake. I think of her
velvet and this energy rush won’t give me a rest
will I ever be the same? do I even e-
xist? my teeth are stained blue with
yesterday’s tricks. I feel like a lemon that’s missing its
zest.
[ssba]