Sitting here
with beer in hand
drinking
awaiting better days
but the better days are so few
and the dull nights grow longer
so I crack another open
and discard the last
empty as me
to the corner
not sure how many this has been now
not sure. . .
days. . bottles. . . whatever
drowning aching thoughts
consuming
waiting
for something
maybe for the phone to ring
or a visit from the ones
who have forgotten you
but the women you want
come too late
the ones you dont
come to frequent
neither really care much
they will outlive you anyway
most likely
most do
drinking
away the money
you would otherwise spend
on unaffordable things
that you dont really need
as you cast another
to the pile
bottles upon bottles
in bins
and bags
clattering on a cluttered table
along with crumpled retrospection
hell. . . .
at least there is a bright side
Michigan does have a 10 cent bottle deposit
in which you can take them back
to buy more beer