Thursday, July 17, 2014

explaing to do

tipsy, under the gauze
of two shared
and rather lethal
martinis
you stop
into a tattoo parlor
along the boulevard
to have the name
Ginger
inked into your arm.
but first they
have to painfully
remove Mabel,
your wife's name
who is wondering
where you are at
three in the morning,
picking up milk
and bread.

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