Sometimes when I am not yet drunk enough
(and Ovid and Virgil are left on their shelves),
I intentionally get in emphatic arguments
regarding facets of life,
and I take a wrong side
purposefully,
to enjoy how people find aggravation
in finally proving themselves correct.
I have sometimes seen people
doing enough cocaine to dust the local mountains
and they speak loudly because they have important things to say,
as if their voices (thicker than straw and quick to burn)
can make their ideas into wordless towers.
I once read a lot of Bukowski
but I stopped because
I kept being tempted
to write poems like this one.
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