You browse the cuts of meat while
you wait for the barkeep to see that
you're waiting.
I noticed you long before
your dark eyes reached mine.
Your enticing smile,
your **** arrogant strut.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
I feel blood rush to my cheeks.
*I don't want to be
the sandwich
you'll eat
half of
then toss away.*
I flash a smile.
"No thanks."
You're not bothered.
You move on to the next
deli case in search of
other options.
I exchange glances with
another good looking man.
"Hi! Can I buy you a drink?"
Don't you have anything original to say?
I gesture to my full bottle.
Just a revolving door
of shallow small talk;
lonely men and women
looking for
something--
anything--
My friend returns from the ladies' room
and yanks me from my bitter cloud.
We snap our fingers under
the strobe lights in a sea of
empty.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 9:06 PM UTC
I do not want to rise to my feet.
But there’s no snooze button on a child.
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.
*This place is a ******* mess.*
I tidy up while she watches Dora explore;
I do not like being on my feet.
I brew four cups of Maxwell House
and check the mirror to make sure I look alive.
Rise. Shine? Sleep. Repeat.
Into the car and off to the sitter’s.
She and I dance to pop songs on the radio.
Upon the car’s pedals, I tap my feet.
I drop her off and drive to work where
I drop off hot plates to hungry guests.
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.
I pick her up, go home, and cook dinner;
then bath time, bed time, homework.
Will I ever feel stable on my feet?
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 9:00 PM UTC