Two Hundred and Seventy-Four.


Izzy circle


somebody go
tell the world it’s on fire


Sarah circle


I ogle you
there’s no other way of putting it
I ogle you through a pair of perfect champagne goggles
and drape myself against the balustrade lustily,
fustily, reeking of damp in my wool blend cardigan
you run a hand through your Ken Doll raked hair
and wipe it carefully on the leg of your pants
and there’s a chance, I would wager
that we’d get past the pleasantries
and fall into bed with a fumble of hands
but I’m jumbling words in an alcohol haze
and I’m dazed by the sparkle of cigarette lighters
raised in the air like a toast to the night
so I just keep on ogling you



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