around midnight

end of the city street

I was walking back

had a quiet evening-for me

they’d enjoyed the stories

& the crowds

& there she was-again

drunk in a waver

biting her cheek

looking left, right, up & down

wondering where to go

& I did want her

& I’d done my best to let go

hi, she said, all soft, slow

where you going?

she started then

hitching up a falling stocking

I was hooked

looked at me in a smile

she knew she was coming with

you got a bottle?

there was a time

I thought it was me

or maybe my cock she loved

but it was always the bottle

we went back to mine

sat on the bed

poured her a stiff one

I hate you she said

knocking it back

holding out her glass

for a repour

come here you bastard

began fumbling with my pants

I want you in me

but first this

& I feel the sting of the spirits

in her mouth on my cock

& I could do this forever

with her

& the problem was not me

& the problem was not her

it was always the booze

first she’d play nice

then the slut

then the bitch with a mouth

I’d want to nail shut

she’d get into the throwing thing

words on my failures

her better lovers

empty bottles

stuff on the floor

anything not nailed down

& she’d flounce

gone

leaving wreckage

that shitty feeling

humans get after abuse

& I’d swear no more

& I’d open the door

helpless

the next time

finally she found

a new fountain of booze

a fresh pretty boy to whip

I was such a lost patsy

finding myself missing her

or was it just

really, only

those late night hips?

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