we saved our marriage

I sit at a bar with dried leaf walls And high life that tastes like light bulb a fiendish looking old man with liver spots that look like rusted metal tells me that dying is only slightly more inconvenient than living chuckling through a freshly packed lip of stained glass I piss into a trough and watch the ice melt I sit at a desk and oblige a similar stream I hoped I’d win enough tickets to save our marriage or leave it Or a fish in a bag Or a fuckable commemorative candle Maybe we’d be happy then Maybe we’d do what they couldn’t For now, we succumb to the weight of destruction in the air And hope that our consciousness dwindles in unison with the sanity of the old man Or the dull glow of neglected machines Responsible for our salvation