Happy Hour
by Chris Major
Earlier in the day
he’d hunted brontosaurus,
studied the Turin Shroud
on the cracked and frosted glass
of some pub’s shit-house door.
As the mushrooms wore off
lust was fuelled by
the ‘2 for 1′ neon screams
of ‘Student Nite’ liquor shots
and………
a young girl
never witnessed
another ‘Happy Hour’,
as life devalued
to breathing unaided
registering as good news…..