Saturday, May 28, 2005

empty tip jars make no friends
cause worry and wince
and pay no bills

tips jars full of money
will get you free drinks
will get your story listend to
will get my bills paid
will make my landlord and crditors smile

empty bars make no friends
long expanses of pine or oak
polished to a gleem
waiting for a friend

time killed
shots drank
music played

a pocket half full of money
a pack of smokes and a hot dog

a pocket full of money
a pack of smokes
gas in the tank
and a waitress to bring me steak and eggs
my roommate never sleeps
he just sits in my easy chair
in front of the TV
a beer in one hand
a cigarette dangles precariously from his lips
and a booked layed carelessly across his chest
he sits there all night
with two excetions
to make god awful concoctions on the stove
for me to clean up later
bits of food and grease and goo
left as little reminders that i do not live alone
the other thing that he does
instead of sitting in his chair
farting, bleching, smoking, whining and moaning
is deposit the same fowl concoctions from the stove
in the toilet
after burning thru his digestive tract
to leave a stench of death and rotted life
in a room no bigger than a closet
with a paper thin wall next to my room
seeping thru the cracks and crevises
remindingme i do not live alone
he hates me
he envys me
he enveys my ease with women
and my taste for fine bourbon that i do not share
he enveys the women who sneak out of my bed for work in the mornings
he enveys the way i stay out all night
but he never sleeps
he just sits in my chair
staring blankly at the tv
staring at me
waiting for me to do a trick for him
clean up his mess
and bring home a girl for him
fuck him