Saira Viola

3am Sexaphonica

Fur-lined panties an oversized dildo
and a talking sexbot named Sadie
It stunk of tequila
half-smoked cigarettes and rubber pussy
In a rotating circus of muzak elevator air 

He tried small talk 
In a drowning sea of alcoholic fizz
He looked for warm blood –
someone human who could
make the eye of failure
stop winking at him 

What did he have to show for six decades?
Vicious voices on his ass 
And his ego flopping in the gutter

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