BETWEEN

Between songs
the old drunken woman
spit in my drink.
She wanted to get it on
and it was not happening.
She was the black cat,
the gum in the hair,
the winged fly
flying into your soup.
The old drunken woman
wanted me.

In the city of sin
the old drunken woman
wanted to get between
the sheets, but that train
left the station.
She was twenty years too late.

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