Vermouth and venison defined a night.
You spit his meat out on the ground,
and skeletonized your garish bones.

Wood pallets burned, outshining smoke
that rose like clouds to where we were.
And like the chess match you had with Ben,
vermouth was heedless to all our chagrins.

As I let her know just how I felt.
As I slept alone on the kindred earth.
And as a peace pipe refused to cool,
solace was a rising sun.

In the wake of the embers dying hard,
as my hazy eyes met standing tall
the bodies planted beneath the clouds.

If you’re not happy with what you have,
your empty hands reached up for more.



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