So Long HR
(c) 1999 by Christopher Blake Carver
My budget was long ago wasted
in terms of money love and lust.
I wonder if you even know it,
as the smoke rising from your cigarette hides my face
but not my feeling.
I don’t even know why I am here.
God knows I don’t need the liquor—
maybe he knows I don’t need you.
But still I darken this door,
four nights a week—nevermore, never less.
And I sit and watch you
An intent stare glaze and glare, all rolled into one.
All expressing my quest to learn why you entranced me.
God why do I do this?
A torture self imposed.
I should have walked away long ago and far.
When you are given the chance you pummel me down.
Words like spears cast into my side
but no longer my heart.
I walk alone here, and often back home.
But sitting here now,
My hazy reflection looking back from the bar top,
and drinking on quarters once again—
I can finally accept what others have told me so long.
Walking home alone—
is better than walking home with you.