Categories
Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Urban Legends writing

you may leave your calling card

some part of me
should look after this poem
but the lady of the house
isn’t here at the moment

and there is no good
no good
god damned reason
why anyone
would be awake at 4:00 in the morning
listening to santana weep
samba pa ti

contemplating the way
they prefer
the old wild turkey label
over this new one

the only heirloom
my father left me
was addiction

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