Titans and Prune juice

the sounds of laughter reverberated through the dry walls and copper wires shanghaied me halfway down the half-lit corridor up to his old tricks again, I thought this titan, man, flirt spilling from his domain: matrons, freckled faced nurses in stitches, pissing themselves I bore petunias, prune juice and comforting words his dusk arrived a week later his eyes, I remember eternally void of winter and regret