The quirkiness
spewing from your drunken lips,
so bohemian,
those electric fingers punching keys,
I stumbled on the ****
you dropped on all of us,
the true believers,
exploding &
rapidly colliding,
hiding our faces in sorrows,
traces,
traces,
traces.
Whiskey breath.
Motor word-demon.
Wild bird.
You ****** me up Jack.