by-Matthew F. Blowers III

Dregs.

Black velvet dissolves my pain,

neon painted by a bar light,

chasing it away with a beer,

on a stool next to apathy

where no one cares to sit.

Some ladies laughter,

at a table behind me,

tinkles like wind chimes,

heard long ago in the

winds of what was

interrupting my conversation

on my date with numb.

Five more rounds

and I'll get lucky,

rising on quivering legs,

floating like an ice cube

across a hot griddle,

only realizing the door

after it slams behind me.

Befuddled by keys that

offer me nowhere to go,

I'll impale that tiny hole

with clumsy stabs,

going Helen Keller

on its chrome confusion

then dissolve into a puddle

of flesh and drool

across the back seat of my

motel on wheels...

in blissful oblivion.

but at least I am not driving

and risking other lives

with my numbing of my sorrows

through mind

befuddling liquids

tomorrow i will be sober

and start the painful

process all over again.

Goodnight cruel world