Right Now

It is interesting and sucky to me how writer's block on one piece often leads to a breakthrough in another. As I struggled to write my next band write up due two days ago, I finished a challenge set forth by a writer friend weeks ago. He asked me to write a poem about "anything, it just has to be something you're experiencing right now." This is for you, Ryan. Your move.

Around 9 AM 

I am composed of nicotine and coffee

to make up for lack of breakfast 

and last night's beer. 

After midnight I am mumbled lyrics

and smiles that come too easy.

Right now I am thirsty for words, 

hungry for a painkiller in the form of 

somebody else's problems. 

You inhale my condolences, 

taking them deep into your 

already charred lungs. 

My whiskey whispers spill into 

your tonic stare and we become

bubbly yet bitter

sweet and smooth, 

a deadly cocktail 

of apathy and boredom,

blurring the edges of

rules we used to follow. 

Past the stage and 

away from prying eyes

we are drunk 

on each other

and this intoxicated transgression

won't go unnoticed

because we are all guilty, 

every acquaintance an accomplice, 

every patron a witness,

every shallow hello a new charge

on a rap sheet of tipsy crimes, 

but this bar is the only place 

where arraignment never comes.  

If the sky weren't overcast

we'd make it that way 

with our endless breaths of cigarette smoke.

If we weren't sick of going home 

or running away

we'd quit standing around.

We wait for the crack 

of some unseen cue ball

to smash into our formation, 

breaking up the patterns 

we squeeze ourselves into,

sending us racing toward pockets 

of comforting darkness. 

Instead bright headlights

wash over us

exposing our empty hands 

and tired eyes 

as we stand in this dingy parking lot

searching for one more shot

at belonging 

after last call. 

Your fingers interlace with mine

but I lean on my car

instead of you.