Litkicks Message Board Archive

if

Posted to Poetry




if we drank about a quart of rum one night
we would get into a big fistfight
you sing alto and I'll sing bass
kisses and bruises all over our face
I know you don't believe in astrology
and as to the shelf life of your apology
it might last forever but if you'll permit me
it might only last till the next time you hit me