Stranger Now

I miss the way everyone looks at me

Photo by Nikola Jovanovic on Unsplash

I am always looking for the easy way out,
the actual name of the afterlife,

a saloon where we all end up, crumpled
twenties at a table, a stained bar towel —

wipe the sweat and the water glasses,
a dusty floor, a place for a spit bucket.