When you
are asleep
I go and
look at
pretty girls
behind a
bar counter
and watch as they
slice the air
with the curves of
their bodies.
And when I am
softly buzzed
I go home,
roll up a joint
and smoke it,
then drive out to that
country road
that heads northeast
out of town
and blast
Pink Floyd’s
“Great Gig In The Sky”
while I think about
my dead cat
and remember how
he was there
to watch me
transition into
a woman
the last year
he was alive.
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