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machaca #24, 1976.
ARedLetter

i sit in a red-green brick house, having now
 1
burned my asshole bright with scorned chili peppers,
 2
staring into the last bit of beer meant to cool my palate.
 3
 
 
i think to myself that this isn't right, the sound or the smell,
 4
the way the icy temperature of the glass warms far too quickly
 5
for me to enjoy it - i think it all to myself, but the man at the back
 6
with a hat made of ashy stories looks up and walks over as if
 7
in response.
 8
 
 
he walks past me without so much as a glance and i see the
 9
browbeaten canyons of his aged face and think to myself that
 10
it isn't right how he pays for his meal and says nothing to the
 11
cute blond behind the counter, so i get up and pay for mine,
 12
a little extra on the side for her troubles.
 13
 
 
she thanks me, but in my haste to leave the warming beer
 14
behind and set it all alright, i only hear the gentle closing of the
 15
door and the pick-up howling of the wind as the man disappears
 16
into the dark of the night and i think to myself that it isn't right,
 17
even as i watch the red-green bricks fade into a blur and then
 18
nothing.
 19

4 Dec 17


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