6 o’clock in the evening
And I am dressed finely,
Handsomely like a man going to wed -
I donned my best suit,
And my best smile,
Just to see how much chagrin
The world holds.
It’s 6: 30 in the evening,
And the dogs scattered all across
The streets like the cigarette butts
From strangers.
I paid too much for alcohol to smile,
Wasted so much on cigarettes
To feel good,
And now I feel worse.
How much money do these people make?
These headless incognitos sprawling across the bar,
With makeshift stories to make a patron
Feel good inside himself.
How pathetic,
How disarrayed.
I paid too much for life,
I never give exact amounts.
They gave me my change:
Death at 7: 00 in the evening
At a rancorous bar alley.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem