Don’t email Jamie when you’re drunk.
She’s married and so are you.
She’s pretty but that’s not enough.
You need to share a worldview, too.
She worships the police and you don’t.
You’d have a sexy vidchat, but she won’t.
Don’t email Jamie when you’re drunk.
It’s midnight for her, too. But unlike you,
she’s sleeping. Unlike you, she’s not been drinking. Unlike you she’s not up thinking
“I wonder what he’s up to?”
You’re lonely In New Orleans.
You’re alone in New Orleans.
And where is Jamie? Not with you.
(What does she wear to sleep?)
I won’t text you though I want to.
I’m too smart for that. Forget it all.
(Sensible sobriety is so boring.)
I write better when I’m drunk.
Jamie’s nipple responds to my tongue.
(Not really. I’m drunk. But if only.)
Good night. Good night New Orleans.
(Let the jazzy trumpets sound. I snore.)
Kisses of you’ll have them, lady. Kisses.