Welcome Home

They talk baseball
and repeat words
Words from the radio heard driving home

Home at its best
Sucking cigarettes
Rotten air exhaled
along with stale opinions

“Call the young kid up”
“He has the swing”
The callers had dialed in all to agree

“I hear ya' bro”
The other one says
Their glasses raise and clang loudly overhead

And I walk in
to no acclaim
Well whiskey ordered, taken, and promptly paid

And I get a beer
Like I always do
The scenery of the scene is static
There is never another view

Welcome home.