there was meaning in the nervousness
of the girl that took my apple
fingers on the money, preparing to grapple
with the lessons learned over a double shift

my non-question was brutal, but swift
"i know a girl as pretty as you must be married"
words that rarely leave my mouth before i'm half-buried
in enough canadian whiskey to kill a canadian moose

but this hell of day left me feeling used
running for refuge in a hazelnut flavor of a burnt coffee
where the voices of honest living never dare to bother me
i came, i went, with twenty ounces of stimulant in my right hand

this was the way it had to end
except for the feeling i left on the counter
with the dollar forty nine encounter
and the pause of an innocent sweet smile