i have got to stop coming in this place.

these kind of boots are not good for me.

i was holding down 2 jobs, and one of em was bartending.

and there was a girl, you know there was. just the slightest bit

married. and she'd come in , mostly when it was raining.

long black rain coat, stompy boots with 3 foot heels, and  then black lace and not much else. she'd show me just enough. just

enough so my imagination would have to go stand outside in the rain. and she wouldn't do it at closing.no. she'd come in hours early.

and leave.

so i'd start dropping stuff and saying "wait. what did you order again?"

long straight heavy hair, glossy, black glass.

white skin. as milk. as the price tag on a twenty-thousand dollar wedding dress. red lips. as wine, as blood, as thorny roses on valentines.

curvy and slender and soft.

and before the coat would fall open.

just one side of that eves apple mouth. not even half a smile.

she'd look you dead in the eye.

have i been drinking? yes. yes, i have.