somewhere in the night

Let me be naked or covered on your
cultural cock.
A man steps onto a red couch,
while another blows smoke
into the abyss
of a bodega
of vending machines and games
calming the unconscious.

We all want to play.

And one must hear already
the truth from the drunk
breathing out the last drop
of morning dew.

All are we children under the wondrous moon
and so babies sleep
alongside father’s and mother’s
tonight.

~ by Aquatic Poetry on May 18, 2012.

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