Could do with some proper coke
Right now, you know what I mean?
And she flashed her jaundiced grate
Like that pov on the school bus.
And I gestured to her Brillo crotch.
In there, I want to do. I have to.
No extra twenty for the other.
No, smiling an apology, shaking.
Still I don’t remember crying,
Her hold, her stroking words,
Or the parlour room décor.
Not even the child’s eye
That watched as I broke
Down into a man.
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