Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends


we meet up every few hundred years
at the same special little place

our private table always waiting

black leather booth lined walls
covered in pictures of us
with frank sinatra
caesar romero
and every grinning kennedy

the bartender no longer asks what bourbon to pour into our manhattans

mutually assured destruction
the only dish on the menu

this year i bought new heels just for the occasion

a sumerian demon draws seams down my thighs

so i tell him wear your red suit, baby

it will match perfectly

with the armageddon in your eyes

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