quiet, innit?

some bad craziness here last night. lotsa brown liquors mixed with that gin & shit pizza, i think. nobody but moaning a bit when they shift in someone's bed or nest. not always their own. dusts're sifting slow across the morning-forming light in three south windows today, settling unseen into the scuffed varnish of our pine planks. somebody left a kellygreen beanbag under the a/c unit, & a coupla butts thoughtfully ground into the baseboard. kitchenwise, i think we oughta call a hazmat unit. the screendoor ain't latched. a draft carries the sweetbitter smell of warmsticky beer residues like fermented honeysuckle. the couch is askew--from that coffee table, ashdusted, that carries scraps from what i figure must be drug use, though nothing identifiable--just bits. i'll turn off the stereo monitor, brew that oolong, take to the porch, draw up my knees, pull my pad out and click a tip of lead onto my pencil. the house is as if mine.


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