untitled I

and again just for a moment

i fall in love with the type of

marsala in my vomit and

the bitterness of the vodka

mixed with chewed up bits of olive

and the anger that a 20 dollar dinner

is septic

is gone but

so are the calories 

so it’s like he never came

in the first place

it’s the wine sauce

like an ulcer

like a void

like someone’s

tongue behind

my ear