dive bar, alive
the ache 
of would not be
fantasized reverie,
of the existence never been-
relief of grief
undeserved, and
desired
the ever growing old
wonder
what some ancient youth might
conspire,
oh, so, centered on self,
that hope and helpless state
of wanting.

and so, 
the solo bard
undeterred by
inattention,
calls, in tune, 
stronger
than any unmelodic words
might-
in all that is,
the vicious wish of altered
otherwise
collides (inside)
while without and around
some bastard begs
a song,
all decrepit and over exposed

if only, they’d known
the shown truth 
on
regular residence
in
the place
remembered for forgetting-
the soul, unsold,
taken granted for and by and
aside 
the distracted tide prescribed by
the holes in
pockets,
and perspectives

all the while
the sage sits
and
sonically subsides to
the meaning
meager minds never
mind