Cruising passed a Red Lobster
I think of my conception:
a waitress, a lecher, some gin--
It doesn't take much.
"They broke the mold, alright,"
says the Happy Accident never.
How Spartan of him.
He's smitten with a franchise.
I could get used to this
firm water pressure
if only her eyes could
pierce like the weather
but for now it's back to the rules:
-No sex in the champagne room.
-No guns on the coffee table.
-Please turn down the music
while this party is bleached.
They've exhumed corpses
and found claw marks
in the caskets.
How much more real
do you expect it to be?
Currently reading:
"East of Eden" by John Steinbeck.
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