The best kind of clarity
Can only be found
At the bottom of a package store bottle.
Somewhere between one of the cigarettes
I bum from the guy in the russet suit
While he rants about God,
Two drunks walk by our balcony.
I shot out a question about their destination
One says downtown, the other: Hell.
I want these others to disappear
In a flash of blue smoke
Like we’re in Goddamn Vegas,
And leave the chubby hippie and me alone
For a few moments of savage ecstasy.
But when the Femi-Nazi says she’s off to score beer
I know by the time the last bastard leaves
We’ll all be too drunk and tired
To go through the motions
Of foreplay and lost saliva.
So let’s just get it over with