I’m just sitting around
Garth Brooks singing
about friends in low places
he could be singing about me
the beer was cold before
now it’s the temperature
of mother milk
I’m just sitting around
the evening creeping up on me
quietly, stealthy
just like death
I don’t care
there is neither
fright nor sorrow
I’m just sitting around
waiting
what for I don’t know
I’m too young to die
too old to live
but not too old or too young
to get another beer