I use the moon’s help
and a friend’s slip-of-the-tongue
to prick the bluest vein
and let my ears pick pocket
two precious nouns between a vowel
coming from a stranger’s gray breath?
you know how a great high
leaves no mark or residue
no trace of shakes or sweats
I hang here strung out on stanzaic bliss
minutes from the last word fix
waiting for another mouth to drop a line
what about these two
friends of yours?
someone make them stiff drinks
limes are better than lemons
everyone knows they bring
more blood to the lips
for sloppy blunders
of brilliance
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