Somehow, weíve washed up together
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lapped by music, licked by liquor
sprawled on the tideline
of one too many
breathless blue-light bars.
All night Iíve swum
against the tug
of your sultry smug flirtation
with coral smiles and canyoned breasts
on waitresses far prettier than I.
Yet now youíre all insistent charm
and wanton hands
demanding their reward
while Iím incurious and tuneless,
toying with desireís minor chord.
But itís too late, too wearisome
to go against the vein.
Our ignorance of mutual rules
too pale a reason
not to play the game.
something in your shifting sleep has changed.
Youíre tender, tousled, childlike now -
all scattered limbs and cotton-crumpled skin.
I canít forgive this blithe embrace
for last nightís absent eyes.
their idle blindness
to the absences
reflected back in mine.)
Youíre morning now, clean clothes and coffee
Iím hungover still, stale-tongued and stained.
Too shy to talk to strangers,
too uncertain of our past to start again.
Donít call me: let me leave you here
sleeping in the flotsam
of our low tideís high-time change.
While I make one more trustless truce
with one more dark-eyed day,
taking my uneasiness and pocketing the blame.
Buying last nightís one way ticket
for the morning train.