Killing time in trouble’s waiting room.
One drink more. Two.
“You have ankles of the kudu”
written on a receipt
tucked in the pages
So you remain. Remember
when you stayed there all night reading
the same page over. And over.
No clocks. Desire stokes your patience.
One drink more. Two.
Soon the breath on your neck,
“But, querida, I’ve waited forever for you”
(Source: callmebalthazar.com)