Friday evening creeping in.
You're invited to a bar.
Somewhere in Brooklyn.
I will be there.
Black and gray sweater.
Black jeans.
Black boots.
Shaved head.
I'll be sitting on a bar stool. Polished. Wanting. Hands open.
This is the moment i'll be waiting for. Shake hands. Kiss cheeks.
Let's begin.
1 comments:
Bit of a drive, so I'll have to pass, though it's tempting. I'm trying to figure out whether we have more or less in common now than we used to.
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