what goes around, goes around

sleepy, sleepless nights
laying in bed eyes wide open
Old Milwaukee calling me
     cheap creepy beer
first half of the bottle tastes bitter
not bitter maybe just
a little smelly 
     cheap creepy beer
vowing not to get the good stuff
til I get a job 

in the liquor store in the afternoon 
jean jacket greasy hair 
back in that dimly-lit corner
looking bottom shelf
nine-ninety-nine case specials
           Docker-wearing sweatered yups
           frown, don't give me room
           looking at those imports
                        and microbrews
                  and specialty beers
           they'll sip from frosted glasses
           discussing something they heard on NPR 

I'll sit at home
in the dark
Old Milwaukee soggy chips
writing bad poetry
vowing to escape
     cheap creepy beers
     Old Mil Black Label Blatz
             once I get that office job
             working with yups wearing
             Dockers, sweaters
             soaked in fluorescent,

daydreaming of staying up
all night with
     cheap creepy beers
empties 
dead soldiers
spread on the table
in the dark
at home