At His Feet The Drunks Of Love

My soul was sleeping
In the milk,
I yelled at him
To breathe
His face as white
As the moon,
Like the mayor
Drunk at noon,
Blowing kisses
At the whores,
At his feet
The drunks of love
Were sleeping
On the barroom floors
Now that he is loose
He wanders,
In my streams
Eating from my garden.
If I find him
Asleep in the milk
I will yell at him
To breathe

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