AT THE TAVERN AT
THE END OF TOWN
Jaundiced perspective, that token of the last free
beer, the shot in an over-sized shot glass, the way
two fives are left simply on the bar-top. The light
right here is cavernous - it crowds the low ceiling
and sparks the noise of the drinkers, as if something
so soon was to ignite or catch fire. From heat does
love grow; from flame comes the shooting fires of love.
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