Linda's, 1 a.m.
When I tried to lift the last notes
of you
from the clink and clamor
of your relentless background music,
I knew that this time
there was no sense in shouting.
Across the wires bottles chattered
loudly to one another on crowded tabletops,
darts buried themselves
in scarred walls and broken furniture,
the bullseye still pristine.
And somewhere on your shoulder,
curling like stale smoke
around the arm still marked
with the crescent moons of my fingernails,
a foreign voice unfurled itself
in a bawdy purr,
whispering raspy repetitive chords
to bury the forgotten melody.
When I tried to lift the last notes
of you
from the clink and clamor
of your relentless background music,
I knew that this time
there was no sense in shouting.
Across the wires bottles chattered
loudly to one another on crowded tabletops,
darts buried themselves
in scarred walls and broken furniture,
the bullseye still pristine.
And somewhere on your shoulder,
curling like stale smoke
around the arm still marked
with the crescent moons of my fingernails,
a foreign voice unfurled itself
in a bawdy purr,
whispering raspy repetitive chords
to bury the forgotten melody.
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And yes, I have zero southern pride. Do you know why we're sure the toothbrush was invented in West Virginia?
And if you've never heard the joke, the answer is because if it had been invented anywhere else it would have been called a teethbrush.