The snow does not light the grey
parking lot at Ethel’s Lounge.
The beer is bitter patina, hints of yellow.
The friend admits phoning it in,
the other mentions the woman.
They laugh at each other’s absurdities,
taking similar trajectories to their cars.
They tread in puddles of yellow lanes,
leaking discontent and shame.

PH–12/1/17 Ethel’s Lounge, Waterloo, ON, Canada.