Empty Glasses And A Setting Sun

The head throbs

The fingers move on their own

The eyes hang low

The drinks get drank

The people fidget and move their mouths

The sun slowly sets

The drink gets replaced

The women don’t look at me

It’s the eyes

and the empty glasses

The table wobbles back and forth

The chair squeaks

I’m alone

Just empty glasses

and the setting sun

to keep me company

These people

they don’t see me

they just fidget

and move their mouths

I could be writing the best novel of all time

No one would know

and no one would care

I could drink

until I’m blacked out

I could stand on the table

and scream

and none of them would see me

Should we find out for-sure?

Deal.

-C.H.