left the key on the shelf,
went to a party with Adam,
met a girl from Pittsburgh,
I am Saturday,
consumed with existential dread.
no thanks, craft beer geek.
no thanks, Pittsburgh girl.
no thanks, Adam,
I don't want to talk about it.
no thanks, finger food.
people watching routine,
sabotaging the soundtrack,
with sad bastard folk music,
laughing at the looks,
respect how much I stare back.
wondering which,
of the fellow wingmen or widowed witches
have brought their own heartbreak,
and which left it at home,
and which will leave with someone else.
stolen rocking chair,
recycling old jokes,
bashing Brooklyn,
we are adults,
doing the dishes before disappearing.