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Night Hawks


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Sucking in the smoke
Right ventricle, left atrium
Inhale.
She chips at her fingernails,
Gaudy red, what a joke.
He's there next to her
But she knows that shady stranger better, maybe.
They both wear hats and suits and serious looks
They could be brothers, or the same.
The lights glare yellowy
Jaundiced and poisoned
Like their livers that fail
After every night.
During the day, the owner knows children
And root beer floats and the day's special,
But in the dark he stares at the floor,
Regretting the profit of 24-hours-a-day,
Ignoring silver flasks emptying into coffee mugs.



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