The Heart of Saturday Night on a Tuesday

always better alone with my thoughts
especially when I drink
trying to slather on a new coat of paint
on top of my tired puce green soul
to make new memories
or strip a layer off to forget

whichever the night brings on first

sometimes howls swell up
from the better part of the last
twenty years’ pain

sometimes I’m tame as a kitten
purring and sipping my milk
to the sound of the blues

my keys forever click-clacking
no matter which me
decides to surface

I can’t help but think
of the better years
but how things aren’t so bad
right now
and they could be worse

I think of my daughter
and how it feels
that she doesn’t love me

I think of the ups and downs
small victories
enormous defeats

past lovers

how much I wish
some of them were still around but
glad the others gone

I think
I sing
I howl
I dance

then I pour another drink
until the new paint
covers the old
or the ugly stripped away

and I can’t feel
or maybe I can
and I can’t remember
or maybe I can

I’ll pay for it
either way
on Wednesday

ŠJ.D.C.IV 2019

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