July 28, 2017

Prosetry: “Parley”

They don’t take laughter like they take shots of Stoli on a humid Saturday night in the middle of a martini bar that charges ten times the cost of manufacturing. Garments too loose (or just tight enough) stick to their ribs like Dum-Dum wrappers to melted lollipops in cherry, root beer, or mystery flavors. Their repetitive method of debauchery mechanizes the caw-caw pesterings of insomniac crows.

Come the first blush of inebriated dawn, they will parley while guzzling liquid gold, pouring one out for deceased comrades; stepping in cash-puddles.

The souls that can’t be purchased can be sold beneath soles.



US Dollars © Manuel Hoo | ID 280422 | Dreamstime Stock Photos

Some might argue that everything is for sale; anything is negotiable. Perhaps I own the minority opinion on this matter…

Thank you for visiting.


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About Jane Bled

Dreaming, writing, singing. Curious queer human. Soul-deep; heart speaks.


All Things Jane Bled, Free, Prosetry, Writing


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