38s

38s
by
Robin Hall

Sitting alone pondering eternity down
The barrel of a 38 what comes to mind?

Looking off the balcony
On floor 38, what do you see?

When you look at those pills, the ones
That knock you out, all 38 of them, then what?

Time flys when you are having fun
But you are not and its only 8:38 in the morning.

You move to get away from bad memories,
Keep moving, keep score. Move 38 coming up next.

All those people who said they would hang in
With you. Where did those 38 ex-friends and former family go and why?

What about the drugs the docs promised
Would help, and the hospitals. They add up to 38, no help.

More or less. More is less. More people, less interest.
More time, less is left. Too many years, 38 too many.

The 4 twelve-packs of Busch you bought for the month?
Its the 8th and 38 cans are gone. Its a long damn time till payday.

That carton of smokes you got for the month too?
Just 38 left of them left on July 9, 1998. Payday is the 30th.

And the pretty young woman with that
Fine pair of 38 Ds, NATURAL,
Wouldn’t let you near them for less than
$380. Payday is still the 30th.

So much shit, so much time. So little pay back.
Your numbers didn’t come up either 3, 8, 38.

Try to get lost in a bottle and what is there?
Endless meetings, 38 a month
With 38 other assholes just like you.

And that's a fact Jack, or Jill or whoever
The fuck you are.
Numbers,
Shit,
38s everywhere.

Piss on it.