Tuesday, March 24, 2015

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.

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