poem in need of a new place to drink
we watch the flies
mingle with the dust
and amber of the whiskey bottles
talking about books
about polygamists in utah
as he tells her
to quit crying and get a fucking job
slamming his glass off the bar
to let the bartender know
that he needs to get a little wet over here
while she keeps crying
she’s been crying rivers for days
sinking deeper, deeper, deeper
than the lowest human being
on this block
the two of them in a death duel
holding this empty bar hostage
a small place
whose drunken joy used to shine
like the miserable orange-red sun
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2 comments:
sounds like a downer, that bar... I love "the amber of the whiskey bottles" ... gets me giddy
it used to be a great place..but this couple are in there every night, basically verbally destroying each other.
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