by Jay Levon
Remember that cheap Moscato
we used to drink, the one with
the little bare feet
on the bottle?
Tonight I drink alone.
Moscato still,
but a different brand
which is fitting I suppose.
The house is empty,
and there isn't much
I want to do, so I
search for meaning
in my illegible handwriting
while listening to Lou Reed
sing about his
Coney Island Baby.
And I drink,
and drink,
and
drink.
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