She pours heavy, in the know.

She pours heavy, in the know.

Leans on her side of the bar
same way I lean on mine.

Cornteeth and waxhair,
'Jenny' inked on her neck.
She should be circle-smoking a cigarette
instead of cudding on gum.

Sees me scratching on paper.
"No ma'am, I'm not"
another one of those

fucking
bar
poets.

But if I were
I'd write one for you.