3.23.2021

even now as I write, after so many years have passed!

The room was cheap and tawdry, 
hidden above that suspect restaurant. 
From the window you could see the alley, 
filthy and narrow. From below 
came the voices of some working men 
who were playing cards and having a good time. 
 
And there, in that common, vulgar bed 
I had the body of love, I had the lips, 
sensuous and rose-colored, of drunkenness— 
the rose of such a drunkenness, that even now 
as I write, after so many years have passed!, 
in my solitary house, I am drunk again. 
 

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