He’s drunk across an ocean and misses me.  He sends a song I cannot play.

He’s asleep in Mobile and doesn’t wake up twice a night wondering where I am.

She’s in Pensacola somewhere and thinks about me twice a year.

She’s on the Gulf Coast and I like her better as a memory.

He kisses me on the forehead and leaves me sleeping, dreaming of half-breed demons with faces like angels. 

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