August 3, 2010
it makes me thirsty.

buzzarding merchants
scouring the pavement for one
who yearns for the waters of life.
drained from the cityscape
drying in the slums
uncorked soul-burn bile
floods into the avenue
steaming under the streetlight suns
and the buzzards smell sweet rotting blood.

i am thirsty, yes.
but the price of relief is quite a bit more than money.

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