Pink Shots.
The needle drops, wails
Gin and trombones
While Erikson plays dice
In the mirror and
Lucy downs
Pink shots of poetry.
By 5am we are beasts,
Animals on hands and
Knees, lapping up red wine
Puddles. Together,
We flail in the riot like
Ragdolls: right place, right time.
Tuesdays – 8pm.
Slippery John plays trombone
In a broken down dive bar
On 4th and Broadway.
He believes in pure art, he
Believes in suffering.
His lips bleed notes from the thing,
Tear out syllables, spit
Sophisticated symphonies
While women with motor-
Cycle tattoos lean heavy,
Slope down the bar
In their dirty, black dresses.
On nights like this,
When the crowd is three thin
Slippery John is the King.
Sarah says
Awesome honey =) x
Stuart says
Great job mate. Tuesdays – 8pm is sick x