Pick-up Line

Drop your bag and run to me


I’ll feed you alcoholic sympathy


I’ll kiss your cheeks, I’ll stroke your hair


then walk out the door, and fall asleep.

Pub night

There’s that couple
I watch flatly, an ugly slice of lemon hanging from my lip
A smart purple tie next to me
gesticulating into his beer
That song from a dream
gurgling softly in my head
A man laughs too loud,
Slaps his knee after every plump silence
The pub atmosphere is hollow
and brown
On the cover it’s all smiles
Inside it’s grubby ice
Walking out I say thanks to the wall
giving up to the night.