Hydrogen Peroxide And Penis

At night I remember drinking whiskey in the light flood in the outskirts of your lips

unnecessary beds and blankets
love of solitude.

Honey, turn off the light.
A dark disguise your age, wrinkles

time and the ravages of life
trasquilones tattooed on your hair.
Pass me a cigarette,
something will have to die. Seeing
diluted
smoke in the sky, as my lungs
standby
and your utopian dreams,
already exist.

We'll always have a good poem by Bukowski
on the side of the moon, and some bars
no closing time,
because when the day-hopelessly-
again be the same as always,
losers.