Once again asking first for forgiveness

before the bar. Gold taps in front

 

of me, a Friday night half-salvaged

in the junkyard blocking my dreams,

 

whatever those are now. This collage

of memories lines the wall. This community

 

of sorrow joined together under flickering

neons. Here used to be my favorite, maybe

 

it still is. I might be numb enough to no

longer tell the difference but I know

 

who is and who is not a stranger,

but do not look at me. I am making a public

 

appearance to start the weekend off wrong,

this rust all over my shell, corroding me.