Noise

Rattle my head with hard explanations,
contradictory dickishness,
absurd recitations; listen to the language
of the storm.  Warm rain
drains the clouds, now.  Outside, inside.
Loud with their lightheadedness, they are
like the drunk at the end of the bar.  Hard
ass on wooden stool, dissatisfactions described
and the distracted bartender.  How he
protects himself, cool indifference.
Just another customer sick
with the trick of their alcoholic fantasies.
Their "undying love" is a kind of hangover
but the happy-go-drunkly regular
cannot help herself.  She is only
one vodka seven away
from going into the ladies room
to remove  her panties.

The smoke is gone, but the bars are still filled with the crescendoing voices, the scowls and grimaces, the unhealthy choices.  Make the rain end, bend the sky down to the horizon and climb into the night with its expectations.  The streets are laquered with neon and rain, engines and horns and pain.  You are going home.