Dead from 8-4
Fingers sore
Weak core
Faxing war
Still poor
Nothing more

Out the door.

Faceless patients forgetting their patience
How does this computer work?

Said no man ever.

He'll just want you to come again
every now and then.

Silent and alone, I flow through shops with so many
windows, but I see nothing except the faces around me, the ones
who might believe I'm more gossamer than the shawls and tunics
meant to disguise us all as ethereal hippies in the New Age.

Silent and alone, I stand by the fountain, waiting
for something to break the sleepiness of solitude when
two men spot me: mouths parted, eyes appraising, judging, appreciating my physical worth. Rooted in place, I smile.
Only when they look at me do I have purpose.

The door creaked and I craned my neck
to get a better look at who walked in.

I saw sultry, pouting lips and an ***
that moved in indignant little circles
as she walked up to a stool at the bar.

My lust was provoked immediately,
and I knew that she knew it by the
way she checked her hair and makeup
in the mirror behind the speed rack.

She was already naked in my mind's eye,
already leaving me in my sad imagination.

It'd been maybe three minutes since she
walked in that squeaky front door,
but I'd already had more than enough.

I left half a beer on the bar
and strode out into the night
without ever even knowing
her name.

A proud emblem of fabricated fatherhood:
"My daughter and my money go to Lycoming College"
Bumper stickers show the love.