A Good Kicking

A little blood loosened
on an off-white
slept-in wrinkled shirt
and one droplet for good form
on a playing card I've never dealt or learned to play

I poke around my face, jaw, everywhere
like any good mook on a Sunday or Tuesday morning

my mouth is parched, hot, rotten

Never trust dames with saints' eyes
or saints' ways
cuz
they
take your hand with jellyfish fingers
and kiss your cheek with lips turned inward

Another tumbler of The Black
just to burn
like real love ought to.