What was I thinking?
All alone in the bar
With the creepy old men
Covered in tattoos and scars.
The place was infested
With all shapes and types
I imagined that some
Had once worn prison stripes.
In the corner a man winked
As he drank his last beer
I was starting to feel sick
I should get out of here.
So what was I doing,
Midst the winos and strays?
I was feeling just as lost
And as lonely as they.
Caren E. Salas
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