Rainstorm Soccer Game

Rollicking, rolling tenth piss in the middle of an eclipse.
Spotify in the middle of the night, lullaby serenade with a grenade.
The French and the English playing soccer in a rainstorm.
Half-drunk, half-asleep little maudlin, scrambled brainstorm.

You leaned back and said,
‘I don’t like how this feels.’

But fuck…

Every sparrow tells your secret.
Every mourning dove betrays your love.

The band was dressed in black suits.
The ushers rushed you to your seat.
All the eyeliner girls were in a bad mood.
The coyotes were out dancing in the street.

It was 3am when I rang.
She answered half asleep.
“I’ve never been a cheap bang.”

“Well, I’ve never been this forward.”

I’ve got a unicorn’s horn hidden behind my door.

We can send postcards internationally if you want.

I’ve got 26 poems locked up in my buried vault.

So young, so old. I’m on the road. Listerine in my throat.

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