I can’t decide if my chest pains
are from anxiety or heart burn.
Punishing myself for the past.
What I do know…
The wind blows sticks off trees
and those sticks multiply
when you pick them up.Bartenders fail to put
adequate amounts of
Bitters in old fashions.My soul sounds like
a dobro right now.
Vibrations define us.The woman next to me
is beautiful drinking
Jameson on the rocks.The lone ice cube in my drink
was hung by a Vigilante
in a past life.The squirrels are part of a conspiracy
to make The Airedale bark.
I’ve heard this from the crows.I live in perpetual limbo
like a ship never to port.
I survive the seas with things I carry.