poem of the day 08.05.15

wrapped in the ugly arms

of another saturday night

there is some shit song playing loudly

adele or some other faux-soul crap

anyway it reminds me why i stopped

going into bars this year

bad loud music

bad loud televisions

bad loud people

take your pick

and of course there’s one of them alone

grooving to the adele music

there are only three of us in the place

wrapped in the ugly arms

of another saturday night

i didn’t even want to be in here

i wanted to be in the other bar

that had slightly better music

but there were no seats

except one that was occupied by the husband

of someone who looked like wavy gravy

so i’m here

my wife is not

and i’ll leave it at that

the adele fan turns to me

with teeth that glow in this amber darkness

she says, they play the best music here

have the best drinks

she says, i work with children

and every fall we have them paint the windows

of the businesses up and down 3^rd avenue

with halloween decorations

i tell her children need to be taught early

which ones are the bad artists and which ones have talent

i tell her, there’s no point in encouraging them

we can’t all be picasso, you know

but she doesn’t hear me

doesn’t understand art

just smiles and starts shaking her ass to the adele song

so i kill my beer and head back outside

bay ridge packed with people in the humid air

watch a group of bros

all in plaid shorts and polo shirts

bar crawl into the other bar

where wavy gravy and her man

are still holding court window-side

do that slouchy drunk walk the several blocks home

where my wife is walking slowly

up the block

sad and forlorn under the florescent streetlight

that shines through our bedroom window

like an anemic sun

looking just for me.