A Quart in Trans

We started out at the bottom where every fucker mingles

All the good it did us both, squatting under ice


I chopped it out soon as I could muster muscle

It’s a long road south into the belly of this wish


Black marks on the road and a heavy head, as pens will roll

All markers chalked at the wall


I figure I’m long away from the old cafe, I’ve not got wheels

And yet a desire drives fifty feelings forward




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