Logorrhea for the Night Beat - Drinking on the Job

[underdogx]

The pier floats,
a villus in the harbor-lumen.
The policeman, like a t-cell
walks the streets in candelabra.
Declarative, his deliberate steps
imperative for clarity.

He walks the wonder of cell motility,
no reveille for revelry.
He leaves the whiskey on his lips,
leaves the smug smile.

Ex-Philly spin around and spit fire.
A dry wine drips, her mouth a mire,
wet with melancholy humor;
lumen of black bile and bilirubin
sanguine, she sings
a deluge of dirge for Cambridge.