night of the year
to go out in.
new years eve.
the drinking and driving,
the fixed prix
prices
on all the menus.
the overcharge.
the parking, the weather.
you eat at eight
and still have
four more hours to go before
the ball drops.
and here you
are in your fancy clothes,
twiddling your thumbs
as the waiter
tells you it's time to leave,
more customers have
arrived and they
need your table.
so you walk for awhile
before you put more
money in the meter.
you get a cup of decaf coffee.
by eleven you give up
and go home
with your boxes of left over
Chinese food.
you
change your clothes and walk
the dog.
you turn the tv on,
you nibble at some
rice
and beef, a rib bone,
then fall asleep
twenty minutes before midnight.
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