PTSD
PTSD
I wanted to be at the curve of the bar
So I could see both doors.
That way, if someone walked in…
It was a beer and shot sort of place.
Take a shot, feign being wounded,
Stagger out into the gun-bright sun.
Home, I’d stand in the shower’s
One headlight, wondering what happened
To the other one.
Someone must of shot it out.
Where was I again?
Same place I was before.