Drinking the Last Beer

by James Babbs

sitting in my own kitchen
drinking the last beer of the night and
of course
I’m thinking about women
the ones I couldn’t get
the ones who never wanted me and
I’m contemplating death
not necessarily my own death
but just the general notion
of what happens to us in the end
it’s all the years of booze
soaking through my brain
that makes me think about these things or
it’s something else
I don’t know
for some reason I start
wondering where strippers go
when they get too old and
nobody wants them anymore
I mean
how can it be easy
after all the years of dancing
and showing their bodies to men
for them to slip into
a so-called normal life
but the bottle’s empty now
I throw it in the trash
make my way to the bedroom
I’m ready for some sleep

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1 Response to Drinking the Last Beer

  1. Joyce Juzwik says:

    Very interesting piece, James. Those moments alone at night, maybe in the kitchen or somewhere similar, how we begin to analyze life and the world in general. It’s wild, but true. Thanks for sharing this. Reminds me that somebody else does it too!

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