i like places that smell
like stale beer
and men who worship
my filthy feet
but i’m confusing
faces in my dreams
maybe i’ll see one
in paris or london
far from the
american avenues
of my youth
where we can careen
arm in arm
through the old world
wasted on wine
and maybe find the dream
we were searching for
on that proud highway
so many lifetimes ago
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