From Winamop.com


Slivers by A.g. Synclair

 

I will drink gin with her in the afternoon
whiskey with unfamiliar labels


I will love her
the way a woman should be loved


without damage
like sunrise.


My face will greet her hands like a friend
like a lost dog or the crush of winter


You see, like Chinaski,
or Portnoy, I'm a lit fuse


one day my spark
will burn those little annoyances


right off the tips
of your fingers.


Like that bald elephant
disguised as a cop


like the missing tooth
of August


like a shadow
always two steps behind


I can see through the gray
through the falls


through the mottled
past that allows you in


and I will use mottled in a poem
this poem


because it fits you
like skin.

 


a black line

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