at The End of The Bar

 

 

Strawberry Fields plays on the jukebox.

 

I have lost my lust for women

I think,

as I light a match

to light the cigarette

between my fingers

 

I inhale. . .deep

the smoke casts a haze

over my memories

of what lust once looked like

felt like, tasted like

and regretted like

 

I exhale. . .long

the smoke casts a haze

in the opposite direction, and

when it clears,

I then remember

what lust once meant to me

and what it means

to the young man

hitting on the pretty brunette

at the end of the bar.

 

 

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