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sauce by Angela Thomasten days. it has been ten whole, glorious days
since last i put the sauce to my lips and burned
my throat. since a single drop of the fire-water
has moved into my speech patterns and my feet.
i made it past a saint patrick's day parade on fifth
avenue. green beads and tongues lining the street
with the smell of aftershave, beer, and yearning
dancing off the sun-beams in the air. even days off
and the phone's not ringing and my apartment sounds
empty. even then, i have two bottles in the freezer
and the caps are probably icing over in a place they've
never sat long before. i could not have admitted this
year ago, a month ago, ten days ago, but this, this
dealing with world for once, this feels absolutely right. 03/19/2009 Posted on 03/20/2009 Copyright © 2025 Angela Thomas
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