Rp Verlaine

Losing Streak 

Hit the blood bank, 
a cash transfusion  
to buy needed thrills.  

Tossing back Manhattans  
and Singapore slings  
in a Bronx dive 

where crucified Jesus  
is near naked on wall  
next to pinup dolls.  

I dial five times  
ten numbers though  
I was never good at math.  

She says “come see me  
bring some cash, no  
I ain’t charging you.”  

Cops give a long look  
as I stagger off the train  
on my way to her.  

Even with all the  
men she’s known  
I go in bareback.  

Too stupid to ask  
what I’ve left to lose  
on another losing streak. 

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