Back alley bars, moonshine hustlers by the pool table, busting my nuts over a $50 pot on black.

Candy-blonde across the table in a heated
Debate with some drunk poet.
Damn! that ex’s song plays on the jukebox.
The one that reminds me of the Faith video.

Graffiti on the toilet door promises me nirvana
If I call this number.
Uptown girl in Gucci at the bar, her expensive Fragrance doesn’t belong here;
Snuck out for a hopeful fuck, away from the Imprisonment of monogamy and lockdown Boredom.
Sweetheart I’m just not really into hustling with your type anymore. You know the score.

Whoa! Baby blue eyes, sees you flashing greenbacks:
Come buy me a shot, you know I’m kinda hot.
Yea! bet my bottom dollar bill, you’re my future Ex.
But hey! it’s 2021, fucking hooray!
Let’s get together and wasted, in this downtown Smokey joint.

Robin McNamara has over 125 poems published worldwide. Poems have been placed in Saccharine Poetry, Pink Plastic House, Dreich, Full House Literary Magazine, Dream Journal, & Literary Heist. Robin’s debut chapbook, Under a Mind’s Staircase is being published with Hedgehog Poetry Press in 2021.