For the third time the waiter
tries to force me from my chair
The party was over at least half an hour ago,
but it still echoes in my head
I smoke one last cigarette
facing the shocking resemblance
between me
and the ashtray full of cigarette ends
Friends are all gone
the nice and the mean ones
I didn’t notice the departure
of those I haven’t categorized yet
The most generous insisted on paying the bill
the meanest left stealthily
grabbing the arm of the one I flirted with
throughout the evening
The waiter cleans the floor
while I watch the motion of the broom
It’s just one of those bars
closing doors in your face, man . . .
Get lost, you upset ashtray!
