Rail Drinks

The bourbon was five dollars for a pour,

I don't remember walking through the door.

My mouth tastes like a handful of old change,

And everything inside the room feels strange.

I found the receipt crumpled in my jeans,

A record of the mess and all the scenes

I probably caused. The coaster’s on the floor,

A sodden piece of card I can't ignore.

It’s stuck to the glass like a parasite,

A memory of a very stupid night.

The tap water is flat, the light is gray,

And I have nothing left to really say.