Away

the bars have nothing to
give me
anymore. I’m tired of
people, of having to
deal with one-cocktail-is-my-limit
motherfuckers, of talking to alcohol-free beer
aficionados, of being surrounded by chirpy
girls and boys trying to prove their (non-existent) manhood.
I have my bourbon at
home, I have my rum and my ouzo and my wine and my beers,
I have four liquor stores within walking distance. I don’t
need the bars, the bars don’t need me. I get
drunk away from the noise of
the world, away from the noisome crowds reeking
of desperation and idiocy. the bars of
my good
years reeked of piss and cheap beer, yes, but were
also populated by characters: insane
drunks, angry bikers, easy whores. I miss
those days. those bars have been
closed down, razed to their
foundation for political correctness never
survived in their premises. I stay
away from the bars, for I’m gonna use
a wrong pronoun. I stay away from
the bars, for I am going to flirt like a drunken chimp high on acid.
I stay away from the bars because I hate people and
people despise what I represent. as I
drink, wandering deeper into
inebriation, I
know it’s fucking alright.