Grenade’s Night Out

Before last call
you convince yourself
that they are paying attention to you
by telling yourself
they could tell with one glance
that you are a live grenade.
This must be a heroic act. 
They must sense how dangerous
you are to yourself and others,
can see your obvious potential
for causing widespread distress
so they’re all over you.

If this is happening,
that is.  It may not be.
And soon you admit that It isn’t. 
So you go home alone
because it’s getting brighter outside.

Ho hum, nothing new,
you awaken still a little drunk
after only two hours of sleep. 

On the couch again
with the laptop
and another final poem you can’t get right,
flying by the seat of your briefs,
no coffee in you yet.
You haven’t raised the shades in weeks.
It tells the world no one’s here.

So what?
You’re sprung,
been flung,
the pin’s already been pulled. 
When you eventually explode in a forest,
a bar or an apartment,
if no one’s there to hear it,
it won’t make a sound.  So
why not have a little fun
before that happens and convince yourself
there’s a chance
you’ll be regretted?