At A Bar, Dizzy, I Write This On Four And A Half Napkins:

Welly, welly. I'm at the bar getting altered. Ordered a beer, when that didn't work I ordered a pitcher. So, you know. That did the trick. I'll get to walk home on a warmly toastish afternoon. Birds will sing sailor songs, the sun will smile like a cherub, hoo. I love the shiny bottles at a bar, all lined up with their perfect posture, a dream-land of child-like drinkery, all frisky and light. The bar is empty 'cept for me and the workers here don't like it. If I were gone, they would have no cares, so they're grumpish and tense. Grrr. I just make google eyes at my beer and ignore them, happily unconcerned.

A TV, muted,

shows it's shows

with mouths that open

and mouths that close

And it's strange because I'm eating as I see this, I'm as bovine as the box. To assuage the guilt I, quite reluctantly, drink more. Through the window I people watch, through the window I see:

Bi-pedal mammals

Slackers in flannels

and infants with mumbley cries

They're with mommies who care

and dads with no hair

and I drink as it all passes by

Alone in the world

Alone all the way

I drink to my cares

and drown them away