The Scent of Old Lemons & Stale Beer


This poem is a nap
-kin. Sister of the paper
towel, a place for blotting
lips and strategically placed
wine-stained rings, things
quickly written while under
the influence of one thing
or another.

May I have your number?
You can write it right here:



Mine is infinity some days
(that’s a side-slant 8, for those
of you keeping score at home),
ground right down to zero,
others. Call me



Written for Poetic Asides

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1 Response to The Scent of Old Lemons & Stale Beer

  1. Snarky little poem–so enjoyable.

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