The Wasted Land

*Note- It helps if you've read T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land"


Every Saturday the same people
walk into the same bar.
Same fucking people,
week after week; and I among them.
Wasting time.
Wasting life.
Wasting money.
I swear the same songs are played
week in, week out.
Why do they do this?
Why do I do this?
Wasted opportunity.
I regret every decision that led me to this wasted land.
Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Blood is like wine.
Couples.  Count them.
One, two, three.
How long have they been together?
Love. Lust. Whatever. Everyone's favorite damn disease.
Do you know who I am? Sitting across the room.
I'm the girl in the hat and trenchcoat.
So vintage.
Come to me lover, buy me a drink.
Get me wasted. I'm in this wasted land; might as well join in.
I don't have a million dollars to spend.

I see her across the bar.
If she's one of them, she's cute.
Blonde, tattooed. Like you.
My virgin skin, no stories on the surface.
Her stories, skin deep. Like yours.
Competition is a waste.
Of time.
Of money.
Of energy.

The music keeps this place as silent as a concert.
No chatter drifting to the farthest corner where I sit.
Dead place.
Why do I keep coming?
Look the part of the french writer, sitting, making believe she is Eliot.
Eliot wasn't French.

Oh fuck off and play along.

Yeah fat bitch, I'm skinny, young and better looking.
And you have a man.
Ce la vie.
I'll take my independence and run.
Lo que paso, paso entre tu y yo.
She doesn't need to know.
So glad you don't kiss and tell and I don't know her.
Works out nicely.

Sinking deeper in the muck and grime and shit of every day living.
Pour me another, Lover.
Help me get wasted. FTW.

God this music is at least ten years old.
"Off the chain"
There's something you don't hear anymore. Middle school.

What shitty years.
Sitting alone at lunch.....Fuck, don't point out the irony.

And there they all sit
like nighthawks living out their individual little lives.
Lovers will be loved.
Friends will gossip.
The lonely will always try and look preoccupied with a life that occurs
anywhere but here.

A small crowd begins to form around the bar.
Two and a half hours till last call.
How many drown their wasted lives at the bottom of a Bud Light?

Pinky swear? Pinky swear.
She's deep in the wasted land.
I can tell as she twirls herself around in her bar stool.

Slash's guitar solo in "Sweet Child of Mine" sounds like sexual ecstasy.
Those few minutes before orgasm.
Oh Lover. If only I didn't work tomorrow morning.
If only she wasn't here.
I want you in my bed.
I want you inside me.
And  just as suddenly, the moment passes and I'm left in the Wasted Land.

I wanna be your lover.
So appropo.

Close me out.
Get me out of this Wasted Land.
I can't stand this noise much longer.
The looks.
They look at me like I don't belong.
Please don't look at me.
No, look at me. Make me feel like I exist.
Have I wasted away here?

When the lights out, it's less dangerous.
Turn out the lights!
Go to bed!
Leave the Wasted Land.
Until next week.

Corner Bar

If I had to guess
as to your whereabouts
on any given Saturday night,
well, knowing you as I do
I'd say you were at that old corner bar.

No, I can't say you're a drunk,
who needs a fix of whiskey and Guinness
although honey I've had my doubts.
But on any given night
I would bet my life you're crooning
at that old corner bar.

I remember the first time I heard you sing
coulda sworn my heart would melt
as you sung our story through Mrs. Jones,
and on any given Saturday, it's Sinatra or Queen.
Songs of love but never for me
at that old corner bar.

It all started as a harmless fling
and I didn't mind what I'd been dealt,
even though my friends didn't condone
I really like being your arm candy.
You were the king of kareoke
at that old corner bar.

Weekend after weekend we'd spend
lying in each others arms
and lying to the world about us.
But you kissed me one day
and the secret was out.

I thought your mystery would end
I'd no longer be a card
and this would be more than lust.
I was wrong, it ended in May.
All of my dreams never came about.

I went back one last time
to that old corner bar
hoping to see you one last time.
You pulled me close and kissed me
"Goodbye" at that old corner bar.

I'm a thousand miles
from that old corner bar.
I'm doing just fine
and I've found a new corner bar.
There's just one thing it needs.

I want to send out a very special happy birthday to MadDogBV. This is the big one, 21. Now I finally have a drinking buddy. Ok no, neither one of us is an alcoholic. It's just the idea that now either one of us can buy a bottle of wine to go with our romantic 5-Star pizza dinner and we don't have to sneak around to do it. Now we can sit like sophisticated adults and sip a glass of wine with our dinner or go to a show and stop somewhere for a drink afterward in our matching trench coats.
This is a major turning point in your life, Dear. Last night I saw the first glimpse of the man you are becoming. You looked so polished and refined; not at all the gawkish boy you are gradually leaving behind. I'm so glad I could be a part of your life at this time. I remember a year ago I bought you that ridiculous vampire cake and we went to Chili's and had the 2/$20. We had known each other all of 9 months and had only been dating all of a month and a half. Yet, we become quite close very quickly *nudge nudge wink wink*.
I look forward to seeing you more than a bit buzzed tonight. Just remember, always use a D.D. and secondly (and most importantly) remember that too much liquid courage prevents the machine from working .
Hope you have a wonderful birthday (I'll make damn sure of it), I love you E><3
Maverick