for a good time (for susan)


the denizens remain from the outside passersby
scrawling their various notes in bars
carving soon to be anonymous identities into tables
and scribbling the empty spaces between urinals and mirrors
judgments free of judgment in how they know the walls to be childish
in hopes that the random message would upset perhaps inspire
yet ignorant of how they land in seas of neighbors' phrases
where everyone's word is no one's word
as though harbinger birds cackling in coops
captive to moments in winter
and free to forget the trappings of their own disciplined and self-preserving flight
scratching as effortlessly as claws would scratch on wire
or as children would deface proud statues
yet in strokes of stupidity, madness, and in genius
there are multiple notes in bars
where the woods respond to winds
create cacophany
and careless words rejoice in spite of nuisances
or just because