how bad
and how
bright
things
get one
after
the other
like god
playing
gleefully
with the light
switch
_________________________________
the clinking the clattering a smattering of tinkling laughter like silver sprinkles mixed together with bubbles of giggles popping at the surface like willful children peering out charmed by the grown up smell of the smoke the spirits the ash in the brightly perfumed air mimicking a profusion of hothouse flowers blooming unabashedly making me wish I wasn’t just six tonight
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