Take Me Home

Listening to “Closing Time”
ironically playing above
the bar,
how our standards have
fallen from the floor they
first crawled
over;

how the answers grew fewer to
more populous questions, and from
the suburbs of ambiguity,
we’re hardly
destined to
beautify the broken glass
drunkards smash post-
last call.

I don’t know who I want to take me home,
but it’s not
you, at all.

I wanted solutions and
you were interested
in finding fault, whole
highways ahead
of us coming
to a screeching halt.

I won’t let you take the keys away,
no, so let’s keep kissing in this
roadhouse brawl
because you
only live once and I want to find a
lost slipper at this fairy tale ball,

a girl whose drawl I will never
want again;
who lets me watch our future
dissipate like blood
alcohol.

I want to drive us
off the edge while it can
still
be
called a cliff,
need the adrenaline of
dying in line for a
bathroom stall.

I hear “Closing Time” end,
and my ragdoll heart goes
static.

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3 thoughts on “Take Me Home

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