A Poem, Unfinished

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He Quoted Heathcliff, and Spoiled My Shoes

 

I wandered way down cobblestone,

deep in miasma exhaled from lungs in the mourning.

Maddening mind could only contemplate this suffer age, so

flitting feet followed instinct, and landed me at a dimwit dive-bar in Old Town.

Somehow,

I ended up supping on a ginny Gin Rickey.

Were they out of bourbon?

 

Stood in the nook

at the billiards table, a beatnik boy-toy of

Nimoy stature floated me a

hawk-eye look; affixed a fag to

his bottom lip, and

I just knew he was the type who

liked

Wuthering fucking Heights.

 

© 2018 Kindra M. Austin

 

 

Published by Kindra M. Austin

Author of fiction, poetry, and very sweary social commentary. Editor, and co-founder of Indie Blu(e) Publishing. Co-founder of Blood Into Ink, and Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen.

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