poem of the day 03.24.15

i’ll miss the liquor store man

soon to be displaced

for six months or longer

while they repair my office building

i think change is inevitable

i think i don’t like change

it is akin to a certain kind of death

all the new relationships and the scenery

they’re no good for the soul

there is an ease in being stuck

with the same people for eight hours a day

it is a simple, honest hatred

like an old marriage where it’s okay to fart in the bed

like what i have with the liquor store man

high on his perch with his pop music on the radio

the way he never says hello or goodbye

how he casts his judgement down upon me

as i haul another jug of vodka or magnum bottle of wine

into his sphere of influence

there’s a beautiful vulgarity to the way he grabs

the money from my hand and slaps down the change

turns away in disgust as i walk out of the store

i don’t know if i’ll find that anywhere else

i think i’ll miss the liquor store man the most

during this exile

his dead stare and the twinkle

of marquee neon in his eyes

as the sun sets over the elevated d line

and i head home from here

to do the damage once again.