death sauntered up to
the bar, a few drinks deep.
what's a pretty little
thing like you
doing in an ugly little
place like this?
i laughed
like it was funny.
i make poor decisions
i said.
why not make
better ones
he asked.
i'm having too much
fun
i lied.
his lips stretched across
his teeth
in a semblance of
a smile. he thought i meant
i'd be a good night's
****.
let's get out of here
he said.
i drained the last of
my empty glass,
slipped my hand into
my empty pocket,
fruitlessly shook
my empty pack of smokes.
they were all full
an hour ago. or
maybe a year ago. you
lose track of time in
an ugly little
place like this.
that's not what i meant
i thought.
okay
i said.
we grabbed our coats and
walked out into
the cold.