[black And Blue Bovine] - Poem by Aaron Eliad
black and blue bovine
near the last steep of a transit maple
tolls you in the back for a bar,
until your blood's as his,
his as yours.
stock your hands with green bassets
and everyone sees
her music says for horses in the back loss of love,
but I learned to drink in the navy,
and shoes with names crushed as easy
want pepsi cola
ten minute migraines for babies.
how do you get your hands so clean?
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