Wasted Cash Poem by Kewayne Wadley

The city calls, the closer
we get to the weekend.
A long work week, almost over.
One day closer to Friday,
The desire to put on something nice
Grab a bite, and have a good drink
Or two.

After a good work week.
Its only fair to treat ourselves.
The city, our good friend,
Blows our phone up and asks
If we're getting out tonight.
As much as we love our friends.
Here we are,
Under a shared blanket,
You and I.

We could go out,
Join in the crowd and
Share in the lights,
Or we can stay in and
Enjoy the same shadows,
That will find us outside.
Lost in the flicker of the TV
Our arms and legs local patrons
of the bar we made on the couch.
Eagerly waiting for a refill.
Another laugh, another smile.
At least here.
It doesn't matter if we spill
Our glass.
There is no such thing as
Wasted cash