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 Jan 2015 Vincent Vega
Steele
You have a spark that blazes past my ice cold eyes,
you're the six on a weathered pair of bad decision dice.
You're the smoke in my lungs; my hip's friction's delight,
and you're where I want to be at the end of the night.

So pull me by my the clasps of my black leather coat,
past the bar, to the back, to the room that Aidan keeps aside.
Whisper in my ears, past the roar of alcohol and smoke,
these words that I've longed to hear for some time.

Say:
"You are the cherry on a cigarette; the blade of a knife.
You burn me and turn me to melting when you enter my sight";
I'll say:
"Your lips are my addiction, your *** is my television,
and your eyes are where I want to be at the end of the night."

Then we'll explore love and bad decisions on the table and the floor.
You'll pull me closer, bite my ear, and whisper. "Shut the door."
 Jan 2015 Vincent Vega
Juneau
exhale a blue-grey  
nothing makes me feel this way
light, inhale, repeat
January 20, 2015

forty-six
 Jan 2015 Vincent Vega
Juneau
just take a moment and think about this
what if all that icy rock didn't miss
and gave our planet a passionate kiss
like a disgruntled lover out of the abyss

what if today, our planet earth did not avoid
the two-thousand and four  b l eighty-six asteroid
could you imagine if we were all destroyed
leaving our spot in the galaxy now devoid

what if today was earth's final dance
and all of known life just ended by chance
mother earth's battered in another romance
does the universe even know of our significance
no

January 26, 2015

fifty-two

— The End —