Wasted: Early Saturday Morning

by nat213

Spit drools down my crack pipe
as sunlight collects the horizon
and the tranquilizers don’t work.
The downstairs man purrs his coke dealer awake
and chews conversation with his canines.

There’s a couple next door;
their flat is a maze,
she shakes when I speak to her
and murmurs a dead body
under the floorboards.
I can’t tell if she’s joking.

An undulating lady moves outside
her udders swinging.
She’s hanging out her washing,
every day a new set flutters.

A faded glamour puss,
white hair wound around her head like a turban,
buys all the reduced items
and speaks of time past
in wistful American English.

Above me, a boy tastes his lover
and regards her body
in the cum-covered morning.

Outside, a man buzzes desperation
and crack-widened eyes,
his eyebrows are full of shaved lines.
He meets a man with bulging cheeks
and meanders off in the drug-addled day.

 

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