Half-Hammered at The Bohemian


By Laurence Foshee

is seated hunting for an isn’t: half-lit yule questions of negatives, WASPyish contrapuntal visages, clutched Pirandellini pale ale, or something, anything, any something – isn’t.

It’s … probably definitely the beer at The Bohemian talking through me, but I keep concurrently not discerning why and doting on how exactly damn much.

I love her, in all its (understood as) unreturned shimmering, past that autoclave first decade mark, and reverberating into wonder on which span of time it’s gonna tuck me away within a life of being alone.

But it’s alright; human life isn’t all that long in the first place, I’d guess.

Laurence Foshee is a Tulsa, Oklahoma native with poetry and flash fiction in eMerge Magazine and Dragon Poet Review. He is avid reader and experimenter with the form and subject of courtly love or love-loss.

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