And yet, I miss the KK.

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And yet, I miss the KK.

This is an old poem I wrote…about the banality of going to the same bar.  I read it tonight and got all nostalgic.

I wanna go now.

I miss Kober.

I miss beer pong.

I miss Chuck.

I miss Dennis.

I even miss that hoochie that suckered TeaBag into buying her bazillion dollar shoes.

Fuck your couch.

I wanna sing!

Do we HAVE to go to the Klover Klub, really?

Smoke filtered colored light

Tequila egos

Trashed girl crying

Cue ball clack

Spotty conversation

Sticky table

Rancid toilet

Inappropriate song choice

For a good time call….

Herds of girls

Pairs of boys

Angry drinkers

Painted women; laugh

Stained ceiling tiles

Uneven stools

Broken bottles

Incense sales

Sound layers

Tobacco and Clinique’ Happy

Tippy chairs

Tipsy idiots

Drunken debauchery.

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