Poem: I’m Only Here

When I opened the front door, I wasn’t expecting anything.

Nothing special that would happen to me tonight.

I ordered my drink and took a couple sips through my plastic straw.

The only thought, at the time, was being relieved it wasn’t paper.

If I wanted floaties in my drink, I would’ve brought my own straw.

I could’ve rolled up my receipt I got from the drug store, or better yet,

rip up the receipt into tiny pieces and with much emphasis,

drop it into my drink as people watched in horror.

That would teach others to be so damn nosy when in a bar.

My butt hadn’t felt the effects of the wooden chair I called home.

I threw the straw onto the floor and gulped down half my drink.

My body needed some good old-fashioned drunkenness quick.

I couldn’t take anymore talking around me.

The men use their mouths as much as the women.

If I wanted to chat with strangers, I would’ve made eye contact.

My drink was empty, and I grabbed a few pretzels.

I wondered what kind of germs had been touching these.

Nothing bad would happen to me by eating these.

When I stuck one in my mouth, even the salt was stale.

If I was being honest, I was here because I didn’t want to be home.

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