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The Night

The night passes
like a cheap whiskey:
it burns me.

It calms me
like a hot shower,
like a sweet dream.

It excites me
like an evening gown,
like a flash of skin.

It frightens me
like a coming storm,
like a night without stars.

It saves me
like a fierce embrace,
like unconditional love.

Like a long draw on a cigarette,
the night passes through me,
and I taste the fire.

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I am here

Water flowing over stone;
the wind carries the night;
only fire and dawn are absent,
but now I am here.

Couples curl together in alcoves;
others seduce novels and schoolwork;
no one stands alone,
but now I am here.

The water sings;
the people speak;
silence is unheard of,
but now I am here.

Through the sun and the heat,
through traffic and congestion,
I have traveled long,
and now I am here.

Now, I am here.

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My lucky day

When someone’s got you feeling down
and they tell you to turn your frown around,
tell them to go fuck themselves.

When someone’s looking down from their horse
and insisting that they’re right, of course,
tell them to go fuck themselves.

When someone’s acting like a clown
and refusing to back down,
tell them to go fuck themselves.

When someone’s finally had enough
and they begin to huff and puff,
tell them to go fuck themselves.

Courtesy’s all well and good,
but catches fire just like wood
when some ass sets the bridges alight
with their pretentious notion of “what’s right”.

And you don’t have to take that shit
from some self-important twit,
and when they cease to be kind
you have every right to speak your mind.

Do not let them push you around –
plant your feet and stand your ground!
Stare them down and say it clear,
loud enough for everyone to hear:

“You can go and fuck yourself.”

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Festival

Woodwinds pipe proudly,
like playful skipping stones,
while dancers flow like water,
and their feet take flight.

Food trucks circle the celebration,
and send out sizzling invitations,
but their cooking fires can’t compare
to the passion of the people there.

Even after the vendors have all departed,
the temperature keeps climbing higher,
the heat of the moment waxing full
with the evening moon.

As the festivities come to a head,
the energy crests like a breaking wave,
and the feverish bacchanals
greet the dawn with rosy cheeks.

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