grant’s tomb
lingering
in the broken down
liquor store
where i sometimes reside
trying to grab enough booze
to break a fifty
a cheap bottle of whiskey
some wine
and airport bottle for the ride home
when the jackass in front of me
breaks a benjamin
on a six-dollar pint of vodka
with little more than a laugh
and a shrug
pissing off the cashier so much
that when it’s my turn
he gives me that look
that says so many things
in a classy joint such as this one
that i slap down my only hamilton
and sigh
figure i’ll try doing my banking
at the
goddamned
grocery store
this evening.
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