Sonny Got Drunk

by Thomas K. Hunt

I held her hair, she let go
One too many rounds
A short lived sick affair
Then she stood her own ground

Spinning head, bitter taste
Orange sickle in a bowl
Now just waste
Brought up from the hole

Tearful eyes but not for long
She felt better right away
Then we drifted with our favorite song
At the gym in L A

With her eyes closed
Dancing close to me
Two bodies moving as one
As two could possibly be

Holding hands was more than a feeling
Palm pressed in palm
She could send my scenes reeling
Then bring me back to calm

An anticipated Friday night
Planned days in advance
A staged rehearsal of real life
At the L A High School dance


Posted on 05/20/2004
Copyright © 2020 Thomas K. Hunt

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