Those who laugh do so
with a grim understanding
that my wits
(or lack of), (end of)
proceed from a place
Of red mahogany bars
Distraction
Dank, overused air.
Cavernous karaoke.
And beer running on like my sentences.
Shots of rum
Started out as periods, to poignant the brew
but turned to commas
then trendy — dashes
finally,…

Closing time
meant settling up
affirming friendships
and playing the cool
to the women.
I talk to them like they’re slices of pizza
and they know it.
Reward for my sins is a walk home in the dark
to bed
to impetus
to wit.