The bar light shines
on a woman trying to be beautiful
with the rehearsed demure
of silent film.

It creates a wreath
the color of movie popcorn
and grandma's kitchen paint.

Only one thing burns
as much as the bourbon
As an indifferent patron
spins a ring
on their finger.

A raucous group of old friends
play their favorite song
for the whole bar to hear
of their happiness.
It moves me for but a second.

But I slink against the wall
for safety and comfort.
I am out of place
with no passport
in this foreign land.

My face doesn't match
the way I painted it
and I am a cheap joke.

I grasp at whatever straws
the universe drops before me
and they always come up
the short one.

I think I would rather
you try to hurt me
then to forget me.

I'd rather you stab me in the back
than turn yours.
Perhaps masochism
is the greatest love of all.