its amazing how real it becomes
only three years down the road
i can still hear the echo of inxs
playing on the jukebox
in the underbelly bar called
the next door
hiding intentions with a thick blanket illusion
turning the bar stool back and forth
a pendelum movent arching my eyes
throughout the bar from one side to the next
the bartender interjects
he's paying more attention
to the glass in my hand
than i am
he knows i'm not here to see him
he also knows i'm not here to see
melted ice in the bottom of my glass
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