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20 below outside and 10 above
inside with not much happening
and not much to happen.
  no beer. no liquor. no wine.
my last pack of cigarettes have
already left its black mark on my
lungs. a few pennies but not a dime
or nickle to my name.
  just lou reed on the

stereo telling
me to "take a walk on the wild side."
  i tell him, with no response, i did,
i do, but i'm not too impressed.
nor am i with the alternative.

i prefer to hibernate rather than
congregate, the effort of the former being 
  far too exhausting. opting instead to
sit surrounded by rotting bananas
on the fridge;
  day old coffee in the percolator;
overdue dvd rentals; several dozen
empty wine bottles in the corner
and a few recollections of a girl i rarely
see these days whose fish-net stockings clung
to her firm legs up to her plump, sex-driven
thighs that pumped and rode me,
and many another lucky guy,
   all night long.


and those wild nights, from
bar to bar, scene to scene, filled
with pretentious hipsters.
those style-savvy, talent lacking,
thrift store snobs who proclaim this
local band the best or that artist the "new."
   swirling from drink to drink,
we'd bounce from dance to huddled,
chirping crowds masturbating with
their own image.
   and this girl with me. 
      fishnets. crazy dresses. red shoes. a
booming laugh that you can't help but 
      return in kind.

she could not be alone.
    needing and feeding off the crowd.
the desire to be surrounded with everyone.
and me, drinking one after another,
forgetting where i was.
    wanting only to be alone.

and here i sit.
   no beer. no liquor. no cigarettes.
digging out the salvagable butts at
the bottom of the ashtray.
only pennies to my name and coughing
up the black shit in my lungs that will
one day kill me.
   with not much happening 
   and not much to happen.
   sometimes, like tonight,
i wouldn't have it any other way.