Untitled 01/12/2020

I saw her in an arts district tavern -    
a simple pub of lesser classes;      
not her people, yet there she was -        
absently finger fucking her Iphone      
with a sea breeze before her.      
       
Her overwhelmingly basic presence      
soured my bourbon with unpleasant        
notes of disdain, but this city is free,      
I suppose, and this beverly-belle      
is free to foul whatever air she pleases;      
just as I am to limit my tolerance      
to those of my own station.      
       
So, paying my tab, and boarding        
the Metro, I retreated to my skid row hovel      
where I continued to drink until        
shadows blurred with tilting earth,      
and my body sunk into carpet stained      
with god-knows-what.      
       
Not the place I dreamed of, but      
at least I know where my place is.