For A Different L Than Before

Your particular neurosis is oddly placid:

the lukewarm tension of overwatered coffee

with a streak of malice

like chai too brutally peppered.

Sodden in the dregs is an aching sadness:

like the gin you tipsily told me

you needed to get through the day.

Your lips were slick with gin when

you pushed your tongue inside of me

as though the marriage of sex and drink

had birthed a drug slightly too lethal for words.