intoxicated jackass

Turning back, looking down, searching for something lost in her pockets, I made a quick decision and a drink, never lost one minute of sleeping, stood on my own two feet, moved toward the stage, accosted Ralph, waited for some intoxicated jackass to finish his country lament in poor rhythm and less tune, standing stone still in the glow. The only girl in the world who understands, surrounded by a mass of individuals gathered for no reason, their own unique individualized motives to come together in this seedy bar, to drink and sing on Tuesday, over me.

David Cain, Song of Songs

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About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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