Vaguely disappointing

Maybe I need to change my methods, perhaps tell myself that my post is due on Friday, instead of Sunday.

I've never been good with guidelines.

Either way, I'm putting my foot down this morning. No more bullshit, Fragondruit. Free write from the tip top of my head, 15 minutes, no edits, no looking back. Move on and revise later.

Ready? Set? Go:

Notes from Arena Sports Bar and Grill

These people wear

withered lips

suck hard on death sticks,

pretend it's candy.

It's warm now.

No more cupped hands over mouth

or stuffed in pockets,

cigarette gripped in teeth.

These snapping turtles.

These sad souls

smoke outside with

more vibrance than in

the gray months passed.

Pink cheeks through the haze,

happy buzz,

big voice.

We're all here now.

Everyone has their place.

This is theirs.

The corner of Fourth

and Washington;

salt lick for the wicked

for neighbors, workers,

fathers, mothers,

one and all wrong

wronged, loners and

runners all

nightly migrate

and post. These sad faces

hide loss and nerves and

misfortune

smelling like whisky

and wheat beer,

smoke and oak

washed over with sweet

citrus and coriander.

They drink, smoke,

hide and forget,

yet stay together.