Ode to drinks, lovers & paradise

de L'Arylequine


– a Bukowski reinterpretation –

Oh, my dear Jager,
I’m mentally making love
to your taste
spicy, spicy,
threatening taste.

But, alas I’m dreaming
about you
touching my lips
like no lover can do.

Oh, my beloved Redd’s
how I wish you were
strolling in front
the curtained window
so our
neighbors could only see
our shapes
the same way
your lips touch the cigarette.

Oh how I wish
I could
drink you…
how I wish
you weren’t…

And so far away.

(thank you, my dear Ștefania E. C. for being a muse)

(photo (c) to their rightful owners. do not know the names, unfortunately)