titles are easy

this isn't how it happened:

she exhales and says, i'm very close to spitting in Pat's eye. If I didn't already. Pat looks at me and says: women are like the [self-censored], man. did i ever tell you that?

yes you have, i say. it's good we're among friends. pat's presentation has humour, but it's dangerous. he pitches his cigarette and the rest of us do the same. some old boogie woogie is playing as we come back inside.

there's two of them hipsters at the end of the bar. they're in the middle of him lobbying her for a new beginning. he's pushing his porkpie cap back on his head, like he's fed up. she catches me looking at her and sends it right back at me. i was in a richer place than usual tonight and even there, people have drinking problems.

meanwhile, Pat's arrayed a slew of booze against any possibility of a functional tomorrow. I know he's got no money and i look this at honey and she mouths, i only gave him bar scotch.

then he tries to tip his tip-out. she pushes it back to him. everyone promises each other how great they are.

all these fucking human tragedies, she says to me in particular, and bangs down a round of carbombs. what am i supposed to do with love like this?