drinking a bottle of scotch while watching the British Open
this year being played in Northern Ireland
wonder what Bobby Sands would think of that
I.R.A. P.G.A. AFL-CIO FBI ASCAP BMI ACLU
stymied in life, out of bounds way too often
or missed my tee time altogether
too many clubs in the bag, not enough clubs in the bag
too much canadian club sometimes but never enough
three putts a plenty snowmen
I’ve always been a fader, she’s a hooker
I’ve been doing the big fade since I was born
fading to black like the director’s cut
in some art house film shown at the McVickers theatre
i met her at a bar on the south side
you know, the baddest part of town
I just wanted to be what she was drinking
to quote the song
we weren’t soulmates, we’d sold our souls long ago
for some cheap liquor and beef jerky
and were just trying to get out of the cold rain
running down our backs to the wall
laughing at silly things ultimately meaningless
drinking together but alone in bullet holed dives
filled with kindred spirits and distilled spirits
knowing we had no future
or at least one we wanted
