Home, for Tonight

The bar is dimly lit, a dirty shadow of yellow.
It turns your shirt an absurd red,
weird looks beautiful on you.
Another glass of JD and coke,
and you ask why the air in bars
is a bit too heavy. Sad people,
searching homes, pouring whiskeys
inside and smoking the fumes of
remorse out, probably, I say.
Bullshit, you say, and laugh it all out.
Crazy. Weird. But weird
looks beautiful on you.
Why do you poets complicate simple
thing, you ask. Nietzsche had said –
poets exploit their experiences.
So we do, I say. And you sigh and gulp
one more JD and coke. Let us be
these sad people, let us not go home
tonight, you say. What is home, I ask.
Is it this bar for all these lost souls,
quenching on longing and thirst.
Or is it the street which witnesses
lonely walks, hopeless smiles,
and pretend-goodbyes. Or the people you
pour your heart out to? Or home is the
marks left by ring you wore for 3 years?
You smile, one that seems like home.
Let’s pretend we’re lovers tonight,
And let’s not go back to past, you say.
Let’s pretend like lost souls of this
bar tonight. And fire what’s left of our
insides with this whiskey and pretend
the half-empty bottles are our
home tonight, you say, and drown
one more JD and coke.
For once, I say, you can pretend to
be my home and I can pretend to
own you for real, tonight.
The air is getting heavier and soothing
by each breath you are leaving
on my shoulders. Even the dimly
lit yellow lights are pretending to be
beautiful tonight. I think I will just
make these moments my home tonight.

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