Bathtub Gin Poem by Mackenna Gaeta

Time oozed slowly over sun-dusted windowpanes
Marching in lines so solemnly familiar
Leaking deja vu like motor oil
Our insides used to roast like that
Incandescent distaste and illuminated apathy

Corner store nights tasted like bad ideas
When the moonlight hung so hollowly from the gravestones
Machines, ma cherie, machines
But who's the imitation?

Clocks spin way too fast
Like gutter ball misery
And he just wants to go back
Avec tú, am cherie