poem of the day 04.30.10

scum

she walks into the exit sign
instead of the door
then stumbles back to her seat
confused
he sits a few away from her
smelling the limes that the bartender
is cutting up
they remind him of cabo he says
she starts crying
he gets up and goes down to her
pulls her off her stool
takes her out the backdoor for some privacy
but you can still hear them
her crying and bitching
him telling her to go the fuck home
and sleep it off
when he comes back he talks to
the guys about the mets
the jets draft picks
she’s bawling in her seat
sucking another johnny walker black
she yells and calls him a son-of-a-bitch
a dumb drunk
tells him that he’s scum
he tells her not tonight, baby
let’s not make a scene tonight
she gets up and makes it to the door
goes through it this time
letting in the fading light
the joint gets quiet for awhile
just some neil young playing faintly on the juke
it still smells of lime
he shakes his head and says “women”
his buddy tells him that it’ll be all right
tells him he likes scum
they laugh
the bartender pours another round
her johnny walker sits half-finished
christ, how is she going to walk the whole
way home, i think
and on the television is a game show
wheel of fortune
but none of us are watching it
right now