With any luck I will by this time tomorrow,
In a new sage green lace dress,
Survive this sticky sensation
A while longer.
I know I have been liberal
With new found excess caution.
But it will not last long.
Sometimes you seem to me
The same as the city we live in
And I can't tell
Is from isn't or couldn't.
Maybe the right move is to feed us
One more canned line about
The same frequented bars and the same problems that
Plague our same friends, while -
The third cup of coffee catches
In the throat,
No longer smooth but scratches
An itch down the lining of my insides.
Maybe if I recite the line
One more time.
I would outrun
This stirring that plagues me.
**
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