Sitting in the Living room

Life is busy, here.

Cold. Wet.

Thinking about warm southern seas.

I went to a bar last night

I felt as if I were in these peoples living room

they seemed to know each other

I ordered a drink and watched with disinterest

the swirl of faces

people said, "Hi." to me

but I didn't know why.

I felt like a Russian.

I knew what it meant

to not smile

I left

I drove to another bar, another living room

I left there without sitting down

I drove to a third bar

I sat

ordered a beer

smoke rolled into my eyes

from the old man next to me.

I endured it

it was his birthday

he endured it

I watched the dikes play pool

the good looking red head throw darts

I listened to the meaningless drivel

that people call

conversation

The place stank of loneliness

of busted dreams

I don't belong here

and yet here I sit

drinking my beer

in their living room