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| January 2006 /Volume Seven / Issue One | |||||||||||
| Linda Wandt | |||||||||||
| Right Place Right Time stomping the pavement of downtown Austin on a Thursday night almost time for the cops to start rounding up the frat boy drunks pissing on parked cars displaying animal kingdom hierarchies and habits for the females just cause my hair is down and my shirt is tight doesn’t mean I’ll trade some tongue for a slice of pizza it’s late and I’m hungry the guy keeps insisting I can eat for free the bourbon’s saturated my bloodstream suddenly making the situation and the loneliness unbearable it’d been nice and numb a minute ago I kick at the counter with my too worn leather boots jump up and down the wallet chain at my side clanking violently like a busted glass jar of coins I call the vendor a cocksucker tell him to shove the slice up his ass before I slam it upside down on the counter top I guess he was expecting less not expecting me, cause these days my patience is zero |
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