What do I deserve?
Little, some might say
I leave when I said I’d stay
But that’s me
Matt has nothing on me ha.
You might find me in a wine soaked corner
Broken cigarette between bitten smiling lips
I will give you sarcasm
And then smile cos you don’t deliver
Ha…Take my broken cigarette
Crush it on your carpet and light another
Tell you a story you have never heard before
About you and your problems
And so do I care?
Matt might have but he ain’t there
And look into my eyes. Pain? Ha
That ain’t pain, it is loss
I can handle that. I did before. I will again
Fifty five years and I get used to pain
Don’t send you insane
Just walk out the door, slam it even
Pull up the collar and say ….Fuck’em
You won’t pull me down. You can’t hurt me
Cos I am used to it now. Have to be
And walk down the street
Glaring at street lights reflecting in rain spattered puddles
Daring them. Hating them
Just for being there.
Hearing noises of the late weekend night
Kicking garbage, coke can, and smiling
And entering some sad local bar
Her in the corner? Too much lipstick, Cheap clothes
And I smile, pulling down my collar
Lean against the bar. Catch eyes.
Whisky…Large one OK?
And scan the lives in this neon lit hell
Talk to you. Sitting on the stool next to me
Putting your leg over the other as you grin at me
Tell me your story, might make me smile?
Ha. That you don’t want. Would ruin your night
And I find a seat and enjoy the feeling of trainers
Yea sticking to beer drenched carpet
And think…let my mind wander
Shouldn’t be let out on its own.
But suck back whisky and smile at the woman in the cheap clothes
Dare her to talk and feel her pain and want
Because deep down she is me. Lost and alone
©Stan Rogers 2009