I am Fitzgerald
and Bukowski,
with a dash of Hunter S.
thrown in for good measure.
Or,
I used to be,
back when I was unhappily married—
oh, what a thrill that was!
To live in a world I could reject
(with some measure of impunity)
and in which I felt trapped
and compelled to dream my way free
of my white-picket-fence prison.
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