Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender
In a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal
And then surrender
In the tunnels uptown
The Rat’s own dream guns him down
As shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street’s on fire
In a real death waltz
Between what’s flesh and what’s fantasy
And the poets down here
Don’t write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
after 2 quite fine greek wines to prime the pump.
pull keller and zilliken for 2 couples.
1 new 1 old.
she says i like riesling, but not sweet, so keller…you die for pleasure
she says i like em sweet. zilliken lgka. goodnight
the hubacher is beyond words. unctuous yet lithe. sour and sweet. you cannot embrace it all, so look away. drink the harlan. it’'s 99 and 1/2 points
this is schism-al. is that a word. it ought to be
mindbending
pame
the zilliken. it is kinky. really kinky. don’t bring hometo mom kinky. and apricots. don’t bring home to mom and apricots
vf+
when the smoke from the fireplace intermingled with the nose of the wines…tonight in jungleland
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