So this counts as yesterday's poem, since I totally forgot I made this within the first 24 hours. Because I'm an airhead like that.
Follow me,
out to the summerdusk.
We'll jump ship when the parents leave,
walk the plank and
drown together in catfish grease and
Captain Morgan's last diet cola --
and then we'll sit in the dark
while you talk and smoke and talk
and I'll think about how little it's always taken
for my lips to start to go numb.
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