laying low

laying low
by yossarian
you’ve gotta get to the liquor store
about noon
at ten
when they open
the hopeless are lined up
three deep
waiting to get in
and at midnight
well
we all know about liquor stores
at the last minute
but at noon
you can slip in
and out
without anyone
you don’t want to see you
seeing you
if you choose
to hit a bar
you drop in about two thirty
after the lunch crowd
dissipates
and well before the lawyers
and accountants
begin their carved in stone
happy hour
rituals
you find a home
well off
the beaten path
and keep it secret
to all but a few
no surprises
means no unpleasant
surprises
when the telephone rings
you don’t answer
all the corporate
mega super department
stores
are open round the clock
these days
but watch out shopping
at three in the morning
that’s the hour
the isolationists prefer
quarter to five
is much better
you can have the whole joint
to yourself
sooner or later
you run out of smokes
that’s when you go to bed
until time to hit
the liquor shop
again
you leave the radio on
pull the blinds
and unplug the alarm
and for god’s sake
when the telephone rings
you don’t answer

0 thoughts on “laying low

  1. Wow-what a picture. I’m only going to liquor stores and bars at “normal times” so nobody thinks I’m an alcoholic.
    Great piece.
    Thanks-
    Shelly

  2. i actually really rathr quite like this, i can list a zillion sub-reasons why but the main one is its honesty. honesty stripped of anger, feminism, sex, beauty, depression-as much as i love all that very very much, it tastes almost trivial next to naked assmessy truth. i relate to this a lot as a living thing and it inspires me.

  3. Yeah, I can relate to this one. Especially my pre-marriage and children “starving poet” days. There’s a mood here which carries the reader through. . . a lonely, existential wallow, I guess. Good work. The picture seems like a nonsequiter to me. That’s a happy beach day. . . this poem is no happy beach.

  4. But she’s under water. NOt on the beach…at least not the “upper” beach. And she’s on the phone. She answered it. And for god’s sake when the telephone rings you don’t answer.

  5. HENCE SHE’S DROWNEENG! whoa. going off on tangents about the h&h poem du jour alongside pictures makes me feel guilty. i did want to add tho that existenial other-people make me feel less alone. it’s good to admit you can’t describe everything and god sends me a poem doing it for me. thanx g!

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