I always dig the old bars
paint peeling;

names etched on the stools;

floors chipped over time


and time,

we never have enough   

and yet

there’s always time to kill


I can while away minutes

and then hours

softly sipping or chugging


the bath

 room wall

will alert me who to call

for a real good time

but I’ll avoid contact


a dreary afternoon


a dreary evening


time I didn’t have to waste

deftly killed off

in a guilt free environment

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