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Well before the Party Started

                                    Rhett Iseman Trull


I was drunk, boiling over on the sidewalk, the blood in my brain aquiver,
a tuning fork. I was all bull’s-eye and I knew it but joined you
anyway. Sure enough, my words broke leash and chased
themselves around the room. The looks on your faces
came flying, darts that should have hushed me
right away. But no, all my pockets had
split their seams at once, and there
went years of my loose change
rolling across the floor.


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