I wouldn’t call it seedy It’s not dingy, after all Dark though, and loud Almost always filled with a crowd (Especially during happy hours)
The lights are low (the prices too) One plus one equals four And soon, the time passes like Clouds outside a window
The TV glows With cricket or football (But who’s really watching, right?) The soft conversations together Make a loud hum Of laughter and memories And beer burps and orders And call for bills and- Maybe one more pitcher?
Four hours later, Everything is closed The mall is silent As a graveyard And we sway through it Af if floating on air Skipping stairs And small talk
Looking back, I don’t say goodbye I know we’ll be back Next week Amongst its postered-up walls And high ceiling, Talking over its loud music Comfortable, Happy, (And drunk).