happy hour
sitting here
in froth’s tavern
trying to carve out
some semblance of a night
the last seat available in the joint
by a tv blaring college football
watching sweat collect
on my $5 jack on the rocks
playing mathematician against my will
calculating all of those mistakes
and the things that never should’ve been
how one of the bills
that came in the mail was for $50
how that one didn’t bother me
as much as the one that came for $700
along with a note from the company
casually mentioning their friends
the collection agency
yes just sitting here
waiting for my wife to walk in
the both of us tired
from the tail-end of another
thankless six-day work week
waiting for her to smile
and ask me how i am
waiting patiently
for her to take off her coat
and order a drink
so that i can talk a fiscal filibuster
and ruin her night too
before she even has
that first glorious sip.
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