you leaned on the bar
sexy
like last time
bent over the pool table
drunk
to make your shot
cue stick
sliding through your hand
like a scepter.
i asked for more
jack daniels
& wished i could
turn up the volume
of the “4 songs for a dollar”
jukebox.
you smiled
after scratching
& sipped your
sex on the beach
just like last time.
i accepted then
your vacant eyes & how they
did not remember me.
soon it was 2 a.m.
the bartender
kicked us out
like last time
& unplugged the jukebox
before any of my
songs had played.
Michael Benson manages a comedy club and makes fiction and poetry out of the love and desperation he witnesses on a daily basis. He lives with his girlfriend and a cat near Tempe, Arizona. This poem was written before the girlfriend came along and she's okay with that.
sexy
like last time
bent over the pool table
drunk
to make your shot
cue stick
sliding through your hand
like a scepter.
i asked for more
jack daniels
& wished i could
turn up the volume
of the “4 songs for a dollar”
jukebox.
you smiled
after scratching
& sipped your
sex on the beach
just like last time.
i accepted then
your vacant eyes & how they
did not remember me.
soon it was 2 a.m.
the bartender
kicked us out
like last time
& unplugged the jukebox
before any of my
songs had played.
Michael Benson manages a comedy club and makes fiction and poetry out of the love and desperation he witnesses on a daily basis. He lives with his girlfriend and a cat near Tempe, Arizona. This poem was written before the girlfriend came along and she's okay with that.
RSS Feed