I'll Take My Bourbon Noir

This poem was written during my Data Structures class in the spring of 2007. It’s no wonder I made such dreadful grades in that class.

she was steeped in manufactured mystery
wrapped in red satin
sitting at the bar drinking her whisky neat.

I was in the kind of trouble
that begins with drinking the north Atlantic–

eyes of a garnet lipped doll
just begging for blood and the sweet sulphur of gunpowder
or sex or life or death
(I get them all confused sometimes)–

and ends with aching

nietzche was right–
she was cocked and loaded
and had me so drunk
that I couldn’t
couldn’t count the rounds
spinning probability possibly impossible
impossible kaleidescope of lead
carousel horses hooves thundering as they carry my sighed prayers to gods who don’t care
as she slid my finger on the trigger.

and she was cold
but she was warm where I touched her
my name falling off her lips like she loved me

and maybe she loved me
and maybe I loved her
but luck was never my lady

and all that was left of those ocean eyes and cold steel whispers
were red satin shadows and sulphur
and lead carnival horses thundering my prayers to hell

I'll Take My Bourbon Noir

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