My friend leans in
against the jukebox,
of course, now
in this day and age
it's a screen with a searchable icon
for anything to cure your ills.
He throws a few dollars
down its throat.
We throw comic bubbles.
I shoulda slammed a glass
but instead I'm crooning to
Sheryl Crow and somehow
switching between Alkaline Trio and whatever else
our shot-glass souls
seek out.
Evening air kicks us
into a hungover moon night.
The door is jimmied
and always squeaks,
anyways
Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she listens to music, chirps down coffee, and scrawls lines on the back of gas station receipts. Her work has appeared recently at In Between Hangovers, The Penwood Review, and Apricity Magazine.
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