A Poem for Gary's Daughter

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.