Mike Mikkelsen

The Fourth and a Half Decade

A cryptic diatribe like Jim Morrison squelching 
about cavefish or some shit. I sat and listened
to the art house poet. I’m 35 now and it seems so banal,
but
the hot artsy chick I’m out with digs it 
so I bring up Rimbaud and ramble
on a few quotes from my portable Dorothy 
Parker book. I bought it 14 years ago.
She was about 5 then. She seems to have a good time 
or pretends to dig the insight of the mood. 
She is cute, made me feel hip again, briefly. 
Really, I feel ridiculous. I left a marriage, 
its constraints, the prison I was in. Or, so I thought. 
I might get laid later. Really, I don’t care. 
It’s boring after the first few strokes anyways.
Maybe, I’ll just get drunk.
Nah, I just want to go home
watch the History Channel 
and fall asleep.