The Date
The Date.
Sat in a pub talking to a woman of no substance
other then she wore a skirt and had boobs.
Pub closed, I was allowed
to follow her home
through dreary streets
fine rain and yellow street light.
I kissed her dry, bloodless lips
We parted.
Walking back to the seaman´s hotel
she stood by a bombed out church and had damp hair.
This it too absurd
again I was a place I didn´t want to be.
Money changed hand
and my loneliness laughed hysterically
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