the orange tip of my cigarette
is not unlike a beacon
I'm open to imbibing
The topics we are speaking
smoke and conversation
and the patter of the rain
makes this April night so pretty
i love the time and frame
somehow with the phone here
I feel all addressed
The party is continual
I'm playing for laughs I guess
but meet me in the poetry club
And I'll words
That are sincere and hopeful
Forward looking and mature.
The orange of the dart I've got
Has a little phone screen rhyme
I'm addicted to the party
I'm in here all the time
And if I learned timidity
And left the chat for good
I think you might well miss me
So I'll never do that, good?
The patter of the rain
The teasing chill of spring
I'm feeling tall and merry
And eager for chatting.
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