wait for small green apples
to fall out of the tree
and
bounce and be still on patchy
brown
lawn
8 pm - hot
air is still and muggy
reminds me of warm beer/of funerals
walk to the shop for ice cream
warm cig smoke drifts slow
from
wound-down hatchback window
off licence lights murmur and shine
the busy bottle shelves
flash me back
to
the
wild heart of drunkness
but now
i'm only waiting
for green apples
to
fall
on a brown lawn
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