Where Nothing Matters - June 8, 2026

the leather tavern, down around the

corner, next to the hardware store

has nice Sunday afternoon crowd

I know because as I drive by

the door opens and the music

rushes out and boxes my ears

an establishment where greetings

start with a shout, followed by the

staccato pieces of bellowed words

and then there’re the drunks, the ones

that everyone clearly understands, holding

court with a couple laughing heads

a bar’s intentional volume, poor lighting

and alcohol is aimed to assault shyness,

loosen lips and invite a bit of madness

one can try to look cool while half-

hearing conversations, then keep

drinking till nothing at all matters

I never left a place like that

and felt anything but relief

but this time I came home

with a sober poem

looking

for someone to dance with