by Nicholas Morgan


a guy named Ed
Works at the
backwoods liquor store
Swell fell'a
sells me Jim Beam

i work through my shift
Like some sort
of robotic zombie
I see 1000 faces a day
in the cars
On your door step

can't remember one of them
Only the eyes
and what they said
About who they are

the brain twitches
have been swimming
In the whiskey well
as of late
With inexplicable
splintering sounds

3 stiffs in a row
thanks for nothing
enjoy your day
swine itchiness

a blank stare
on the melted cheese
Ed is waiting


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