a friend of mine
invited me to a party
I decided I’d go
even though I hate parties
people make me uncomfortable
so I avoid them as much as they’ll let me

the house has a large porch with a couch
which is nice
because I’m able to sit out there
and smoke cigarettes
away from everyone else

a girl is dropped off in a car and goes inside
girls are people too
and too I avoid them
but some are different
this one is an exception

she has long brunette hair
parted down the middle
and long legs
her eyes are happy
but not too happy

you see
the happy ones haven’t figured it out
haven’t realized how this **** hole runs
the happy ones haven’t left the city
and seen the smog resting on it

but her eyes have a sadness in them
and I like that

I want to follow her inside and take her home
convince her  we can be happily
sad together
late nights of whiskey and cigarettes
laying in bed all day watching movies the proper way
not speaking until it’s over

I finally came

wiped off with a ***** sock
got dressed
grabbed a beer
and started walking to the party

he lied down in the parking lot
at the local Safeway
on a tuesday at 3:00 am

he thought
the tracks would have been better
how pathetic
to fail at dying

a homeless man approached
carrying garbage bags of empty water bottles
and offered him a beer

they sat there
drinking in silence
he lit a cigarette for the ***
     what is your secret

nothing replied his eyes

he sat on his porch
with a bottle of cheap gin
there was nothing to do,
but forget the little of him that was left

forty-six years
and still nothing made sense.
no one teaches a man (about real *******)
about humanity, its hypocrisies
and ego and greed.
death and the Devil.

in fact,
no one really teaches a man anything at all
check book balancing, dinner table manners,
how to properly shake a hand.
none of it's any use.

he took a pull of the gin
and looked up as it started to rain.
"I know you are there."


                            a moment passed.


the thunder replied.

this business

what
****

some live in a dream
believing
what they have
is really
real

other settle for
red carpets, Tiffany's,
beach front property and trust funds

and then there are those
who are found dead
with a bottle of whiskey in one hand
and lotion in the other

she gave up on me you know
five years and three quarters

we used to it around all day
smoking *** and
ignoring phone calls
only leaving the house for candy and cigarettes

but
she'd eventually grown tired of shortened nights
and un-walkable distances

I left my heart somewhere in that house
I imagine it's collecting dust in the closet
next to dried flower bouquets and
old birthday cards

too tired to retrieve it
too drunk to care

I'd rather sit here on this barstool
wasting away what's left

at the bar
the pub
to be specific

friends get

drunk


in celebration
of near


death