An Irish man at a British pub
in North Upland
A sloppy sad Thursday night
with nothing to do
Not a soul in the bar save for me
two friends and a vodka tonic
drink of choice
quick buzz
Though it always makes me want a cigarette
The lights begin to die
and its past last call
only 12:01 and its already last call
I want to drop everything and leave
When I don't feel at home at home
A motivation for better things?
The old Irish man, long since faded
told a short joke about a turtle and two snails
punchline about speed
clever and not funny
A pitiful lonely man
The man I don't want to be
Piss drunk and single in North Upland on a Thursday night
This isn't a bar, he said
It's a Goddamn British Pub
He meant every word of it
Channeling his deep convictions
through a matter of drunken semantics
Like an artist
His masterpiece a stupor
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment