“pour me a beer motherfucker,” he says

I watch the bartender pour the beer into a cold glass

on the street corner as winter approaches

I am stuck

inside this eternal

dreariness of

self-doubt

and here’s this fucking asshole who keeps on drinking himself to

death

he’s here

almost

every

night

and sometimes he doesn’t bother shaving

other times he’s weak and whittled

but tonight

he’s reaching

for

the

stars—

he drinks up, staring straight into the light of the

TV

and he yells aloud for all, “it’s the end

of

the

world! you bastards,” he looks around at the patrons, “never had

a

chance!”

then he stares directly at me, quiet in the corner of the darkness, “and you!” he screams, “what the fuck are you looking at!”

then he leans over into a cackling laughter that almost seems like spittle and grandiose rambunctiousness, but he’s right—I should quit this fucking job, go run amok making

angels

in

the

snow.

--------------------------------------

Bryan William Myers traveled to 12 countries in 2019. He spent the pandemic in Vietnam writing poems, stories, plays, a screenplay, etc. He's self-published 15 books. He published in various lit mags, including BULLSHIT Lit, Poetry Potion, Wine Cellar Press, Versification, Storgy, Mineral Lit Mag, WriteNow Lit, and Whirlwind Magazine. His first chapbook of poems, Empty Beer Cans: Quarantine Poems from Da Nang, Vietnam, was released in May 2022 by Alien Buddha Press.