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 weâ€™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 sheâ€™s off to score beer
I know by the time the last bastard leaves
Weâ€™ll all be too drunk and tired
To go through the motions
Of foreplay and lost saliva.
So letâ€™s just get it over with