The day was clearly Monday. I was drunk
On gin and and started drinking water -- not
As cold as I might like it -- and I stunk
From gym-time. God, these April nights are hot
And tacky: slipping rings on counters, seeing
The twenty-somethings rushing home from dates
In modern cars, there ain't no sense in being
Mistaken for the neighbor. Open gates
And empty driveways occupy the street;
Insipid duplex warrens touch the glance
-inducing girls who toss their trash in heat
And tank-tops. Cheating looks without a chance,
The hunt is systematic; I'm staring
Away, as if I missed what they're all wearing.
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