open bar

   double shot of vodka,
               my watch is blinking 1700 hours
   stood me up again,
        and I have come to expect nothing but the best
           from your behaviour.

                       the dust in the sills,
                  the age in the bartender’s smile
                                the scum that is sitting behind me
                          the exit sign that flickers slowly

        it’s all a part of my design,
               when should I make the change?
                        when I’m toppled over a trash can
                wondering if I should drink more water while my insides empty?

   I need a whole lot of convincing
           and a whole lot of cash
                   and when you find me sitting down at the slots
       razing my chips to the ground
                    maybe you’ll remember that at 1701 hours,
                           you left me behind again.

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