bar blues

i was in a bar
the other night.
having a panic
attack. the music
was so loud that
i almost couldn't
hear the nine
tv's that were
blaring in every
corner, each on
a different
station. and as
i sat there with
my beer, eating
a pile of greasy
onion rings, i
realized
that just about
everyone was in
their twenties
and thirties or
sadly old and
grey and hanging
on. pretending they
weren't fifty.
it was their home
away from home,
because the other
homelife stinks
even worse than
this does, and
the crowd of smokers
huddled outside in the
cold, sucking on
cigarettes and then
staggering home
alone, or worse
with someone they
just met. i couldn't
wait to leave. i
couldn't wait
to get home, to
be alone, to be with
a book or a friend,
or a movie i've
seen a dozen times.
it's a life i
lived for years
and get chills
at the sadness of
it all. you can't
go back again.