by November 8, 2015 0 comments

My compadre in chaos has dropped word he’s drunk already
It’s 7.15 on a Tuesday evening, I’m speechless, where are you?

I had a thirst running all day at work from the moment I discovered tomorrow I don’t start until 6 in the evening
So that gives me plenty of time to build up a head of beer before I have to stop, knowing more may harm me and I can’t be dealing with that
Not now, not in this town at those prices even with those barmaids who scintillate and oscillate and make us hand over our money
And then break our hearts when they ignore us in the street after we’ve spent all our money watching her from our stool at the end of the bar
So far just 10 minutes have passed but I know he’s now out for the count, there’ll be no more word from him
Just deafening drunken silence as I decide, fuck it, I’m going out for a beer tonight
Got some money in my pocket and some smoke in my packet so you know what I say?

Fuck it!

editors note:

Knowing more is more than a bar stool can bear. Sit up and straight and fuck it, indeed! – mh clay

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