Redeeming Characteristics
More despairing than drunk,
but more drunk than the rest,
a bar rises from the mists.
And I fall into it.
It’s a terrible
Take-Your-Hooker-to-Church
crowd, tonight.
I would have gone home earlier,
but I didn’t think bad luck
could hold out so long.
The pale girl coughs out her mating call.
The skeletal goddess of death
says she’ll do me a favor.
She takes some of the garbage away.
I have one redeeming characteristic,
and I seem to have misplaced it.
“Hey buddy,
you kill that pinball machine
and you kill yourself,”
yells the dishwasher.
I think of nothing but crap.
I make a little effort.
And think of nothing.
It would be a good start.
But it’s always the end.
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