pieces of happiness bought at a liquor store
laying shiny and shattered broken on the floor
after they were emptied
in moonscape blacktop rocky potholed parking lot
under yellowed street lights if working at all
alongside unrespected broken up streets
outside Harbor Street Liquor & Bar at 3:05 a.m.
the jukebox has played its last song of the night
now spilling into the street
are the steel mill regulars
after a night of serious drinking
beer whiskey boilermakers
double barreled snowshoes tracking
now it’s double vision driving
hand over one eye please god
let me make it home
don’t let no telephone poles run out in front of me
no po-lice pulling me over
thrown in the gulag, throwing away the key
on monday morning I learn a buddy of me
wrapped his car around a tree
he only got a bang on the head
he’s really lucky he ain’t dead
the next Friday he’s back at the bar
didn’t miss a shift
he’s a badass like they say nowaday
