Not even Seagram's whiskey
can tame tonight's cold starlight
and I'm ok with that.
Reminds me of your blue eyes
that summer night we met.
Right now, there is a narwhal
bathed in the same moonlight
that drifts like a gypsy
into my room.
I am sure Bukowski had nights like this:
not enough liqueur,
too many thoughts.
I just pray we keep the moon in the sky,
away from our mouths, our teeth.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC
Not even Seagram's whiskey
can tame tonight's cold starlight
and I'm ok with that.
Reminds me of your blue eyes
that summer night we met.
Right now, there is a narwhal
bathed in the same moonlight
that drifts like a gypsy
into my room.
I am sure Bukowski had nights like this:
not enough liqueur,
too many thoughts.
I just pray we keep the moon in the sky,
away from our mouths, our teeth.
