Insufficient Funds

My hip hit the bar with a hollow, dull thud,

and the sound of it rattled right down to my blood.

The screen says 'Go Back' in a glowing, red scrawl,

while I’m left leaning hard against the cold, tiled wall.

Two cents short of a ride to the place where I sleep,

with a promise to keep that I can't even keep.

I left an oily thumbprint on the chrome of the gate,

just a smudge of a man who is tired and late.

The city is locked and the gears won't engage,

I’m a bird in a metal and concrete-built cage.

I stand at the barrier, waiting for luck,

while the rest of the world remains perfectly stuck.