the crackling neon
advertising
beers long since
lost to time
flickers above
the dark bar
am unemployed
cryptozoologist
slams shots of
bottom shelf
paint thinner
with a balding
sasquatch in the
middle of a dire
midlife crisis
in grainy distortion
gray aliens stand
around the green felted
billiard table in
the back room
manipulating the balls
with telekinetic pulses
while a group of
bawdy drunk centaurs
play cricket as
a group of nymphs
giggle over a pitcher
of sudsy amber beer
and i sit alone
at a table in the back
listening to a clearly
stoned leprechaun claim
someone stole from
his hidden pot of gold
a cigarette smolders
in the overflowing
ashtray as i sip
a glass of whiskey
wondering at what point
my life descended
into this daily madness
as my mind drifted
as it is wont to do
towards the woman
with wildflowers in
her perfect smile
planning the logistics
of a heist into the
carefully monitored
vault where she stores
the most valuable treasure
in all the nine realms
in a diamond case
among works of art
and as the leprechaun
prattles on in his
nigh unintelligible
thick irish brogue
all i want is one glimpse
of her golden heart
before the bastards
eventually drag me back
to the gutters
i once crawled from