Road Soda

I can drink you under tables
and remember the whole evening.
I can perch a house of cards
on the backs of sleeping demons.
I can build you up
and tear you down
all with the same tongue.
I can paint a pretty picture
with an ugly set of crayons.

I can tell what that long thumbnail's for
and it isn't turning pages.
I can thread your little needle
and sew what needs my string.
I can start off on the bottom
and still come out on top.
I can throw a fool's Hail Mary
on a whim to win the game.

But there's something
in my eyes
that warns them
all's not right
as I slice my way
into imperfect wombs
and wait for morning.
The better sex is with
the girls with poorly placed tattoos
but they tend to count my scars
while I'm still adding blessings.


Currently reading:
"The Dangerous Summer" by Ernest Hemingway.