three beers later

i wear a cubs shirt,
so
they try to speak to
me,
the couple selling hotdogs
in front
of the bar.

her husband
is from chicago,

so i say
"yeah",
and give them
the weakest
thumbs up
i could muster.

in here,
i purchase
a beer,
and am introduced
to these two guys
i've already been
introduced to
before.

one minute
of indifferent conversation
passes by,
before
i walk outside
for a smoke.

i study these people
outside,
50 something year old guys
with long
and dying gray hair,
trapped,
in their twenties.
girls
in their twenties,
trapped in some
rock' n' roll
video dream.

nobody here
is going anywhere,
except
back to this bar.

i find some open space,
begin my second
beer,
and the girl
to my left
wants to talk
to me.

and there's just nothing
i want to say
to her, or
to the wounded dreamers, nor
to coctail waitress
with the very small
skirt.

this summer
has already been
long enough.

every piece of a lie,
every self-sale,
every introduction
has already been
spoken, tonight,
and every single night
since
the the birth
of the first desire.

as politely
as i can,
i finish my beer
and navigate
through
a maze
of people,
until i find myself
back
on the outside.