Somewhere in Brooklyn

Elephants trumpet from tea cups and

splotches on linoleum sheets of wall

are a Rorschach test after drunkards stagger

through taverns of caffeine in Brooklyn

with the lights

still

on.

Lightheaded from cages.

People inebriate to keep a clear conscience

in the stream of main.

We get drunk

on kegs of caffeine to remember

our reins.

 

“16 oz Americano with a shot of the

moon and splash of milky way, please.

 

Hold the paper cup, no clearcut virgins for me.

If I forget my thermos, only give me cups that are sluts,

no shame. Please accept my tip’s contribution

to your minimum wage.”

 

Zebras are not horses and

giraffes are not camels

but in every horse is a mustang

 

and camels spit.

 

When we were toddlers under suds,

we brayed.

 

Tomorrow morning, caffeine drunkards

will wake up in gutters at the codfish’s splashing psalm,

Kenya black kangaita tea in their bloodstream,

coffee stains on their jeans.

“Our drunken stupors are sober conclusions.

Once you dream something you can’t unsee it.”

 

We are the animals we left the tall grasses for

to find ourselves caged.

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3 thoughts on “Somewhere in Brooklyn

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