The couple at the next table
arguing about politics.
The guy at the bar
telling a story like he’s Hemingway reborn.
The TV spitting out bad news
no one can fix.

I sip my drink,
listen to the ice melt.

I could say something.
I could stand up,
slam my glass down,
make a speech.

But what’s the point?

I just want the silence.
I want the sound of nothing.

So I close my eyes,
finish my drink,
and hope the world
loses its voice
for just one
goddamn second.

SOURCETMF
Lance Watson

Lance Watson's poetry operates at the intersection of space and time. Haha. Okay, that's bullshit. But what the fuck. Lance Watson writes poetry and other shit sometimes when he gets high, which is more often than probably most people should, but as I said, what the fuck. LOL. Have fun, folks. --Lance Watson

P.S. If you've never written about yourself in the third person, as though you were dead, you should try it sometime. Why? How the fuck would I know. It's fun.