this old outlaw country music
playing on the jukebox
in this sweaty,
mildew infested beer lounge
is the sound of a
premature hangover
the barmaid ignores my
flirtatious murmurings
peanuts shells pierce
the flesh underneath
my fingernails
and I am denied
another beer
because I’m only
one pull through
my latest pint
I have two cigarettes
lit at once,
smoke strands dancing
together in the air while
foam bubbles
snap and pop
in my beard
and every last
ugly face
is more beautiful
than the last
___
Kevin Ridgeway is from Southern California, where he resides in a shady bungalow with his girlfriend and their one-eyed cat. Recent work has appeared or is forthcoming in Trailer Park Quarterly, The Mas Tequila Review, My Favorite Bullet, Gutter Eloquence Magazine and Illya's Honey. His latest chapbook of poems, All the Rage, is now available from Electric Windmill Press.
