the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

The Second Take

This time with more bubbles,
This time with less trouble staying in the door,
Being able to see the floor before we'd fight
The covers, the other things lost in the night.
Libations were poured down my throat,
Some sour milk left a floury coat on my lips,
While sips turned into swallows
Until the deep cup was hollowed again.
Back in the dimly lit, a chimney spat out fire
From somewhere deep in the core,
Then the walk back was made easy
With a teasing count in three-four.

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