She was kicking her skirt up and talking shit
about the federal reserve and pleading
for a match to light her cigarette.
I only had a lighter but she accepted / stole it.
She was already settling for me.
With no shame she adjusted her garter belt
pretending she didn't know what that did to me
and said she had been drinking since noon.
"People...
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Wouldn't you like to know,
how far we've got left to go?
How many people have slept,
or fucked,
in this bedroom?
I thought scotch would bring answers
to solve unsolvable puzzles,
but all I've done is lose corner pieces.
The agony of the unknown,
that's why we live,
not to die.
Maybe I'm just drunk.