It´s not romantic to think of you while drinking beer,
and it´s not romantic to do so with the music they play on night clubs.
But I can´t think of something more romantic than remembering us dancing while the night slipped away and that this beer tastes just like the cold touch of your lips, and how it made the crowd around us disappear.

Cigarette butts and grey ash
like the static of a tv. screen
occupying every cup, plate and empty beer can.
Ruminating across my mind in circles
an answer remains at the heart of this confusion
too weak to acknowledge, or at least too afraid.

It was in Rome
You guys got the table(cade,nevin)
So we stood there
Till you asked us if we'd like to join

Sure I said so
awkward first cause you somehow look like Ryan Gosling(no you look better, RG has never been my type)
Blue eyed boy from Iowa
Strangely enough, my bedtime T-shirt says Iowa hawkeyes

We talked bout beer ,Shandy, Greek islands ,Prague,Bristol and Iowa. Why should I know?
then you turned to me
Hey, fun fact, do you know the British first sounds like American?
Why should I know?Why did you say so?
But that was the most intimating thing on the table.

Strangely enough, you only asked my name when you left, and everything was left in Rome.

I won't miss your neon signs saying cocktails
I won't miss your judgmental dive bars and ****** hipster conversation.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
The best of the drum and strum of guitar the last night I saw this town for the **** hole it was.

I won't miss your trendy beer and lines of ******* across the toilet.
I won't miss the way girls wore shorts in the snow or boots in the summer.
I'll miss the soul in your heartbeat.
The way this town never sleeps and the way we stayed up wandering past midnight wondering about life.

I won't miss those people who pretend to know me.
I won't miss the way you pretended to love me.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
I'll miss the sweet innocence and the lost wonder as I speed as far away as I can from the place I once called home.

Morning smelled like sixteen cups of coffee,
but that is what it took for you to get through the day,
your brother and your sister are doing fine,
as i am still pariah, must be a flaw in my design,

Evening smelled like cigarettes, as the beer you drank smoked,
driving you home late-night was the best part, then it finally became
legal when I got my license, your other brother's ghost stills sits
in the back seat, he didn't have the heart to tell you he died.

Noon on weekends was bottles of beer in a pitcher,
we (you) had to drink them all because it was *****
and waste to pour the beer back.

We can fight like holy demons
And in the end, nobody won
You ain't telling me we're over
I'll tell you when we're done

Just because we fight a bit
We argue and we cuss
I ain't set to call us done
There's time still left in us

I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge

I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge

Sure, I done my cheating
But I kept my fingers crossed
I know that if I kept in on
My ring would not be lost

So I go and party
But I always come back home
It may take me a couple days
But, I know where I belong

I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge

I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge

We always talk it over
Once they let me out of jail
I know that you still love me
Or you'd not have paid my bail

There's time for us to make up
And there's time for us to fight
So, three more beer or so
And we'll see which will be tonight

I ain't going nowhere
I ain't jumpin' off that ridge
I ain't movin' out on you
While there's beer left in the fridge

I'll tell you when we're finished
Though we argue just a smidge
I ain't going nowhere
While there's beer left in the fridge

Farouche outline,
melting into the stool.
Slippery palms, flavoured beef and onion,
now it's 5 o'clock.

Hands turn.

Willing a pint to be half full, not half empty.
Slumped since 1978, timeless as the wallpaper.

Hands turn.

Mustard teeth to compliment his tongue.
Paralysed from his lifting elbow down.

Hands turn.

Jutting cigarette from blubber lips, burnt out.
Spitting in the ******, ritual, it's good luck.

Hands turn.

Lucky he's got time then,
Read behind bloodshot eyes.  
Ice in the cider, it'll last longer than him.

Hands turn.

An echo, I think it's a bell.  
You're out, he knows.

Hands turn.

Cold bites at the door, he huddles out.
A lighter lost, a bottle-top gained.
The wind taunts the black velvet sheet of white pin ******.

Hands stop.

JWS

The wind was blowing when she left the city...
I believe it was twenty below...
Where she was going she already knew...
But... first she had things she had to do...
Get rid of the body that was clear....
There were no options, it had to disappear....
The heater was broken and blowing cold air...
She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..
She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...
As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...
All she had asked him , was to light a fire...
To take off the chill in the house....
Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped
And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..
It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..
This was his favorite fishing spot...
She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..
And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....
Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..
When I get to the Florida Keys..

PS. This is  # 1 of 5 in a series titled “ Gator Bait “.  
Be sure to check them out...