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I walk into a bar.
Everyone has been there
before me; I say
holy fuck where do you
people come from? No answer
satisfies.

From the atmosphere
I seek
questions and answers
disappear
like raindrops on a traffic light.

I wish I could show you
something lovely in a dirty trick
Like rainbows on an oilslick
I wish I could tell you
something that you don’t know —
that’s the hardest thing to tell you
and I know you
won’t say thank you.

I walk into a bar.
Ouch

©2018 Craig Bingham

In a meeting
You remind me of someone →
Grumpy Suite

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