Sardines

Sardines
in a club
and I am drunk
in a neon haze-
just searching for that somebody
who, tonight, doesn’t exist-
she never exists
and I take another drink
and dance
and catch the eye of a girl
walking past,
she smiles,
so I smile back
but my shoulder is tapped
by a friend
who wants to go to the bar.
We are out of booze
and it is my round-
better get them in.

I’ve lost my girl
but there’ll be another.
I have a beer
and some kind of
spirit-mixer
that I found at the bar,
unattended-
mine now.

To the dance floor
for a swing
and a twist
and a jive
and a bump and a grind
from that fat-girl
nobody
wants to know.
I don’t know her
and my standards are low.

Neon nights,
no smoke,
just fake stuff
tastes of chemical
smells worse
you can smell the vomit
and sweat
and beer breath-
I miss those days.

I carried a lighter
in my hand,
it served me well
and I don’t smoke.
I would die young
but I would’ve cleared up
if I smoked when young.
Too late,
not to die young,
I am still young
but I don’t live that way.

At times
the faux-smoke
and liver pain-
too much-
I deal with it,
perfume mid air
nahhh
I don’t smell it
just the pungent
pheromones.

Their lipstick,
eyeliner,
all in check
and the beat,
don’t forget the beat,
to dance to
and be merry.

The dance to be done
until the morning light
or until the dj stops going;
I will never stop going,
I am here all night,
deal with it
if you can-
often I can’t
but I try
and continue
persevere
’til the end;
’til the very bitter end.

My sweat and booze
and blood stained shirt
is off;
it is all off.
I no longer know where I stand
but I stand,
I haven’t been knocked down
or kicked out-
and I stand
and I shout
and I dance alone
even though all the girls are gone.

I’ll catch one outside,
the pretty blonde,
or the brunette,
drunk
with tattoos-
too hot for words
and I see her
and am speechless-
too hot for words.

I walk home
alone,
I don’t care-
I sing
and dance
in my own head
and music that plays
in my ears
that I carry.

I get home and listen
to more
and I drink more;
I won’t sleep,
I’ll just ring
around
’til I find someone
willing-
someone willing to
come around.

And if I sleep alone
so be it,
so be the way of the eve
the way of the drink
I shall see more.

I shall go out again-
I shall go out in the eve
after the hangover has left,
departed for sure,
or just drowned in the future
of the next eve
that I embrace,
hoping for the next girl
that comes
but means shit.
I am satisfied
and happy
but I don’t know
what it is I live for.