In muddle-headed wonder stare I
At the wall of the booth in the bar that I sit.
Addle-brained thoughts of how I can talk the waitress
(whom I cannot tip)
Into selling me cigarettes for a quarter less.
Or should I get another beer?
(no lager, stout, or ale tonight)
$1.50 domestic bottles
To quench the thirst of yet another
Literary rejection notice.
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