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You will come in less than an hour, and I
should be getting ready, hair, make up, well-groomed,
of gin to calm down the nerves,
but this sudden tickle stays
and my nails
needing an extra coat.
Coach say, go out, half-fainting, donâ€™t save
yourself, you wonâ€™t die and I
am trying to apply
the same thing -- also what
ee cummings said, ha ha
donâ€™t be afraid, despise
its wicked forms.
The traffic roars annoyance.
whats wrong with these cars?
these drivers who cannot drive?
who cannot keep
a single appointment?
itâ€™s lurking beneath,
my contempt, my prejudice, against my knees
prodded up on the balcony. A hot bath,
on the brink of faith,
in the end
why do I care what no one thinks?
or anyone? Pour me a glass of gin!