Alone at the Jackpot Bar
I sit at the bar.
I watch myself fall.
I wait and I wait.
Everyone I know is here –
captured vividly, a photo,
but not quite crystal clear.
I sit alone.
They all walk by.
Not a soul says “hi.”
Is it something I did?
Is it something I hid?
Am I imagining things again?
When does this not begin?
I’ve got to get out of this place,
get rid of your face,
forget everything I’ve ever wanted,
and just lay waste.
It all becomes poison anyway.
Everything rots in its own way.
I can’t capture, hold, retain.
It’s just an old refrain.
I’m telling my story
but it’s becoming a little fucking boring
because everyone here has heard all this shit before.
I just have to look at their blank faces
and I know they don’t care anymore.
copyright 2006 Katherine Andrews
