If they’d hurry up and figure out
how to get us to Mars
we could blow this joint,
especially on a slow night

like tonight, where the taps are
all dirty and the pint glasses
have more fingerprints than
the Huntsville prison database system.

The band has already packed up
and left. Well, they were booed
off the stage after running out
of songs, and playing “The Joker”

in all twelve keys. We could order
the next round on the red planet,
get waited on by rovers, but I’m
afraid by then we’ll be too old to be

140 million miles away from home.
You say at this point it wouldn’t
matter, you’ve already put in your
quarter, and I still owe you a dance.

___

GUY CRAMER is a writer from Texas who’s had recent words in HAWKEYE, The Bulb Region, and Mixtape Review. His first novel Cowboy Melt is releasing later this year. IG: guy.cramer