Meanwhile at the bar a drunkard muses

When Joe made her cry
I didn't feel sympathy
and I didn't want her to leave
I just wanted her
to have not existed.

Her stories would have made grown men cry
but we are grown men
and we didn't cry.

As she left
we let out sighs of relief
and could picture her dodging traffic
looking for her next hit
of young liberal people
to afraid to say
"piss off."

But as we laugh behind her back
and say things like
"poor cow"
it is hard not to picture myself
aged 40
stinking of rum.