BAREFOOT WHITE
CHICK ON COCAINE (SONNET 1)
You
thinking about a not quite super model
toasted on
cocaine, taking her shoes off
corner of 5th
Ave./ Central Park West
waving them
around her like Audrey Hepburn
high on
champagne. Tax records show
you back in
Wyoming, healthy, jogging,
tax records
show you’re the only one
who pays
taxes in Wyoming. Only one who reads
New York Review
of Books. You thinking about
Classical
German Philology on the way to work.
Your
thinking on models of thought would seem to fit:
Bordeaux has
something in it. Roughly 12%. Is that enough?
I wish Nietzsche
had said: if they don’t kill you—people
with
significant flaws, minor virtues, licking their lips—
they will
make you stronger.
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