walk into a dim dive
alive with the energy of teenagers in their parents’ basement
the place is covered with wood paneling, sweaters,
Converse All-Stars and thick-rimmed spectacles
walk into the bathroom
greeted by dark walls and the grinning face
of a panther plastered in black-light graffiti
I stare into the fierce feline’s hungry eyes
predator to predator, we take each other in
and then I piss
I begin to wonder
what weird brand of hipster hell
have I been clubbed over the head
with cheap pitchers of locally-brewed lager
and dragged, staggered and stammering
into?
bernard barnes . artist . writer 
Interesting.