The Marlboro Red is tucked neatly between his index and forefinger
It remains unlit as he peers over his glasses and catches his reflection in the mirror behind the bar
His eyes star to wander and his mind begins to wonder
And he starts to take notice of the other patrons
After all, there’s always something to look at
And the sharks were already in the water
His mind is parched and with a wave of his finger and a nod of his head
he motions for the bartender for another round if you would be so kind
His empty Bud and his shot of Beam are quickly replenished
He repeats the process as often as necessary
and wonders, “What there left to do?”
“The game” is coming on soon and the walk home is nice and quiet
And after some impulse buys at the local grocery store
He staggers in through the front door.
There’s an ashtray on the coffee table just waiting to be filled,
some beers in the fridge just waiting to be emptied,
possibly some leftovers just waiting to be reheated
And a mind that's stuck somewhere in between.