Don’t whisper well whiskey
to the bartender and call out
shots of Jameson all around.

I know what I’ve been
drinking all night,
and that’s the bottle
the bartender brought
around the last time
and I’m not paying
for any specific alcohol.

You might fool the rest
of the drunks with head
half on table, but I’m
a special breed, the kind
that takes note of what
a bottle of Jameson looks
like, and that’s not
a bottle of Jameson.

Quit the shit, your punk ass
is about as broke as me,
you just don’t want to look
poor in front of your friends.
Well let me tell you something,
they ain’t your friends.

Your friends left hours ago,
you’re buying a round for
the late shift and they’ve
been around all day
just sucking it up

without you.

Matthew Thompson is an American born writer, artist, and poet. He grew up walking the streets of Sonoma County California, and garnered a deep respect for writing and the arts from an early age. He is the son of an MFA and a PhD. He spends most of his time writing, reading, or chainsmoking out in front of his home in Santa Rosa. You can usually find him wandering around town, or at the local watering hole, grabbing a drink.