There but for the Grace...

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