Sunday, March 27, 2011

Book tabs, bar tabs, and bills.
The sounds of glasses clashing
With tinkle-twinkle chimes.
Drunks mumble and mutter
Whiskey soaked words;
Best under their breath
Because a direct hit
Would kill, or
At least maim.
The stench could knock
A barfly off of his own
Shit-pile of words.

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