happy hour

fingernail scrapings in a eurethene skin
meant to protect the bar it once glistened on
dirty nails scraping names
initials
and dates
the etchings finding solice
behind dark sunken eyes
tired of life
tired of drinking
tired
just plain ol' damn tired
can men find there way away
will the women stop hiking their skirts up for those men
or
will the women start carving their effigees
and the men start wearing skirts
no pink cup here
i drink not from the pansy glass
knock 'em back hard
knock 'em up fast
make em cry
for my tears have been shed
too many times
wrap 'em up with bows and ribbons
put em under a tree
a twenty four inch tree
sitting on a bar