Happy Hour

If I’d only eaten more.
If I’d picked that last fight.
If I’d gotten another Happy Hour deal.
If I’d stayed in that Handicapped spot just a little bit longer… I know it would have all worked out better.
I’m sure it would have turned out all right.

I should have squatted in that abandoned building
and experimented on that squirrel
and robbed that old lady
and cheated her retarded daughter
and given candy to HER diabetic son.

Why the damn not?
If there’s a hell below
we’re all gonna go.
Why not take the pleasures
where you find them
while you can?

They audited my taxes
– which I’d cheated on –
and I got a huge refund.
There is no god.
There is more evil to do
and I’m damned anyway.
Let me get to it
before Happy Hour’s over.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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