375

Cattiveria

The hot still air,

thick on inhale

painting the mountains blue

oh how I forget all the rules 

when I think of

Cattiveria 

Crummy fantasies 

staining my vision

the wetness in my language

We smoked a cigarette in bed

and said nothing.

Broken like my ashtray, cracked like concrete 

Cattiveria came by day and pounded pavement 

on the street. By night

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