Suit in the corner,
 Tie loosened off some,
 Folding his papers,
 Turns around, announces:
“Looks like it’s
 Going to rain.”
 Cowboy boots,
 Balanced on the
 Edge of a bar-stool
 Looks into his
 Amber glass.
“Ain’t likely
 This time o’ year.”
Slow, drink-studied drawl.
 Seen-better blonde,
 Behind the counter,
 Been wipin’ the same
 Shot-glass for thirty minutes
 Is thinking -but quietly –
“In my neighbourhood, boys,
 It’s been raining for years.”

Impact Minus Fifteen.

My life is another country;

I am often a stranger there.

She’s not going to jump,

So I won’t even try …

And an asteroid is coming;

Think I’ll stay

On the bar stool.