A Day Off

 
I wake up and call in sick to work
because some days the faces and the voices
and all the rest of the bullshit is too much

And you just need time to stare at the walls
or get righteously drunk
or do nothing at all

Which seems to be a dying art
in a dying world
full of dying people

So this Friday afternoon I am walking
with determination
down 2nd Ave
looking for that shitty little bar with no name

The darkened doorway to a dark room
my escape hatch from the day
I duck in and order a beer
from the kind bartender

My beer is ice cold and she pours me a shot of something
on the house, she then smiles and walks away
I stare at the television screen
and see the same war that’s been on since 2001

I hear a voice say “Hey Sailor”
I turn my head and at the end of the bar
a blonde woman old enough to be my mother
flashes her tits

I smile weakly, buy her a beer
glad to have found
a new place to hide

from thinking of you