Liquor’s Illusion

January 14, 2008
She stands at her bedroom window
Like a ghost haunting a porthole
Drinking in the scenery as eyes burn with every gulp
Spirits are high like love’s dream state
In the amber sky, the foamy clouds swallow the bitter dryness of the coaster sun
Houses brimming the mug of the horizon
The thick of the bushes mixing with sour berries
Brandy leaves stirred in the street
Trees swirling in the slur of wind
As those creamy clouds vomit the rain that quenches the earth’s thirst
Gutters chugging like Uncle Joe at Christmas

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