New (Much Beer)

much beer, hot afternoon
willie nelson wailing
lonesome blues.

remembering one,
thinking of another
suspended between
lost past and unreal present.

making someone
into a phantom
that meets some
hidden need
for a connection:
small wonder i can't
grasp her like
a woman.

my foot cramping
underneath the desk,
at least, is real.
i can't deny
the shooting pain
that travels up the arch.

alive! it seems
i am alive.

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