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.