Between the smokes and the beers

Just beyond the barrier
between when it ends and when it begins
we find ourselves standing
before a gate
that leads to between you and I and
any that we choose.

Lost between the stalks and traps
we don't find ourselves in the places
that we want to be.

The trees and branches separate us
from the sun, the blue skies
that we long for.

Play sports.

Watch TV.

Drink Beer.

Pass out in a lonely bed, hoping for a better night,
when,
"some girl will find me for what I'm worth."
With eyes glued to my forehead, rolled back into whites.

Not even staring at the ceiling anymore,
because,
how much is it worth, anyway?