There’s a relentless thrum of noise. It’s cold,
but I’m not. A night can take a turn in a moment
of cool recognition. A face no longer familiar paired
with the laugh of a newfound stranger feels
just the same as the liquor did, empty stomach
and all. We know just enough for it to be too
much. Polite conversations fails: I don’t give a shit,
you’re bitter and you’ve always been an angry drunk.
Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?
You should. I know now, that whenever it catches
your ear, it sticks with you, unshakable unscratchable
unpleasant and for all the trouble you caused I hope
that 5’5’’ blondes haunt you for a good long while.
Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?
I hate that you’re on this record. My name is so stuck
in your teeth, a bitter reminder saved for later. You
have been a stranger to me for years. Won’t you let
me be a stranger?