Skin Deep

I am standing beside the door greeting guests,
And so god-damn thirsty,
Dousing fire with whiskey and ice when
She walks in, smelling like crushed petals and Italian wine,
And a name I don’t remember
But her dress lingers on and on like crisp white sails,
The only thing I can think about is maybe
She’ll dance with me but the bathroom mirror
Is an honest friend, speaks the truth of my condition,
So I spend the night talking to a car
And everyone else.

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