Tuesday night at the bar; still not a cent to my name.

I was bored at home
Decided to get out
Go to a bar.
Sit in seat
Look at some girls
That deserve wealthier guys.
There was this man
At the counter
Bad breath,
missing teeth
old, rotten wisdom.
“Fella, you look like company“
“Naah, I am not“
Go away, get lost old man.
I am not listening to your stories.
I look at lips, bodies and if presented
occasions
The old man knew my weakness
First glance,
first hand experience.
I didn`t have any money.
Bought me a beer
And therefore bought my attention.
Buddy, boy, comrade, friend, fellow man.
For him I didn`t have a name
Didn`t matter
he just needed someone to talk to,
a drink and another distraction.
What is a man’s life than not just another myth?
So I am listening, sipping on my beer,
not much more than a cheap whore for the heart.

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