The Usual

This is what it’s like:

you sit in the white room

singular, knees together

arms over your head

to break the noise from the radio

that is false as a drunk’s promise

to loan you his car next week.

Of course next week never comes

lies continue, nobody disbelieves them

but some are ready for the real story

the young man involved breaks her tired heart

it’s the usual: spilt liquor,

broken dishes, wrecked cars.