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poetry is spread everywhere
at the bar an impromptu
reading begins
we scrawl shit on napkins
we’re there to
snakeskin shed
our days
get more drunk
and the poems more
ridiculous
in hindsight it’s
slightly making
me flushed
in the face
like the tequilla
the event is
only 1% poetry
since all the rest is
out there in
real life
and being aloneenough to write
it down