Don't they know it's the end of the world

Night time
leaves rustling,
wind blowing,
sounds of fireworks rising up in the air
though they are nowhere to be found.

"Don't they know it's the end of the world ..."
-- eerie music on the background.

Bandidos, cigars, red wine, leather jacket, 
perfect for this cool evening breeze,
while my service gun tucked inside my cargo pants.
Not even thinking about it anymore.  
It has become an extension of my body.

My concealed carry.

Thank you Mr Smith.
Thank you Mr Wesson.

Already eight o'clock in Europe.
eleven o'clock in the West Coast.
Forget the East Coast,
forget New York,
who cares about New York?

Smoke rising from the Bandidos.
Mouth burning from the cigar butt,
Nicotine high,
and under the influence --
of alcohol.
It's just red wine.

Meandering thoughts.

I'm fat!


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