two hours

salesmen and auditors, lonely and away from home

free beer in the lobby from five to seven, nowhere to be, nothing to do

the road is a quiet place

wives and kids in other states

so they migrate to the fool

what exactly about his ugly face invites conversation, his demeanor which screams unapproachable invites approach

i am writing about you, sitting lonesome with a glass of beer and thousand yard stare

or trying

yet over they come, to sit and chat away, ignoring the tap tap tapping

unaware they are the subject

upper michigan, middle wisconsin, ass end of iowa, the lady from everywhere yet calls none home

all sitting around me, listening to me tell tales they don’t believe yet know are true

the fool becomes the minstrel, selling memories as the alcohol flows

laughter and my sullen regrets

she asks for my room number for the third time, i explain my heart belongs far from atlanta, that means the rest of me does as well

no love, no sex, no disservice

i casually explain my disdain for casual sex

how many times has open legs taken the place of open veins, of trading emotion for release, feeling emptier for every moment of orgasmic waste

she asks what i am typing and i say poetry

she asks if i am any good and i say no

she asks to read it and i tell her to buy my book instead

they all look it up on their phones, two actually buy a copy, one asks if it is appropriate

i blush and tell them no

then back to bed to think about Her, lying alone wishing she were here, knowing tomorrow is another day amounting to nearly the same

free beer and lonely salesmen and auditors, far from home, looking to kill two hours

One thought on “two hours

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