They are tearing down the Munchen


He took a long draw of his cigarette
then threw it in my former girlfriend’s hair
affronted she ignored him. We were there
me, her, her current girlfriend. I forget
what I was drinking. Had to throw it quick
to quench the burn. Schwarz threw him to the floor
and punched him. And we all got shown the door.
Perhaps because his quiet friend was sick
I hurt his hand wrenching away the glass
he emptied tried to brain her with. My nails
dug in a pressure point. That never fails
You twist in, they collapse, down on their arse
they fall. And there’s the thing. What point is love
if you don’t hurt men when push comes to shove?


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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