thirsty thursdays

morning delayed

by the bubbling smoke of night

i am here drawn to the blood

of a bar driven by people stuck like me

with everywhere to go but everyone already gone

stuck yawning the mouth of poetry

from younger years like tomorrow

where the dead no longer look for the living

where if there is love there is too much

and if there isn’t there is even more

stuck sipping horizons of yellow shrinking

into a body that gets smaller yet

that could use a tan

but that will see the sun slitting its wrists

on the line where land spreads sky

and decide it is time to go leave

dream of nothing in nothing for nothing

until it comes finally

a little late

a lot drunk

and bloody

unstuck