Monday night my waitress made her debut
At Carnegie Hall. Now I’ve heard it all.
I watch as others arrive and succeed,
Bump into a wall and hammer right through.
All my plans and wishes seem merely to stall,
And my looks, slowly, are going to seed.
As if I’m still, on a subway platform,
Crowds part around me, with destinations
They discern, agree upon, and can find.
I dream, rehearse, perform, perform, perform,
Forgo family affairs and long vacations.
Life is like a watch I will never rewind.
I hear she’s good, and she is a looker.
One more scotch. Over here. Here. Oh, fuck her.

From the new issue of The Raintown Review.