Bottle Opener

Mi-Goreng and peanut butter is hardly Thai, neither is tequilla and gin. You purse your lips, I offer up my cigarette lighter, light your cigarette.
“At was awful.”
I nod, “Won’t be around long.”
Finish my gin, sip on your tequilla, pulling out pocketfuls of spare change and a bottle opener. I buy you a pack of cigarettes and a can of red bull, we’re even. You take my bottle-opener and take me home, it comes in handy when the tequila mixers aren’t twist-tops.
I sleep on the couch so your preacher doesn’t know.


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