mr. ____ wants a song

muted microphones engage in conversation when no one is looking.
booze hounds bark at tits beneath poorly lit marquis
you fake a frown and swallow pint after pint after pint after pint after pint
Nothing is sad
Nothing is lonely
Nothing is here
Nothing wants more
delicately hung electrical wires confuse your direction, lead you to abrupt ditches
images make make-believe makers second guess
you’re upside down.
your upside down.
you’re welcome

you’re old, rented, certified and paid

I let one of the others take a breath
stoned blind we dine on cellophaned food

and bring boxes
and bring letters
and bring everything that looks the same