Poetry: Lunar Bowl, Blue Springs, MO

January 19, 2009

Smoke spirals in tiny fumes

thunder and rumbling

the clapping & heartbeats

the lips & the legs

caressing & exchanging

of those looks

those eyes

and pumping veins

with the adrenaline of the bass.

And what’s best,

is the bubbles

in the bottom of the glass

that fuels the rush,

and makes the bust,

exhale in that competitive way.


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