i could hurt myself with you
given enough bourbon
and a decent suit

city lights
drawing down the moon
on a properly placed back in time
saturday night

if you didn’t remind so damned much
of my first husband

back then i could claim being 16
a ran away to the real world too soon
starry eyed twat
with straight A’s
and no street smarts
unable to discern the difference
between a pedophile and a suitor

i’m a daily communicant with that mistake

no, baby, lesson learned
you’re a used car lot wearing armani shoes
a lizard brain
in a gold chain
forked tongue slipping past
your greasy lips
you smell like turpentine
and unpaid child support