Around 10:15, last night…

The pub was noisy, a debate raging over how the
world would end, the degree of inebriation deciding
the vector of war, of climate, of pestilence, of broken
supply-chains. The more grotesque the imagined

dystopia, the more reason there was to drink. The
world-order won’t change tomorrow, someone said,
but you will wake up one morning and the couches
and chairs would have turned away from the

TV to take in an alternate reality. She giggled
and shifted around, seeing, as if for the first time,
the rest of the bar. He sat in a corner, typing steadily,
looking in their direction from time to time. She

walked up, the question obvious. He shrugged.
Yesterday’s arguments were more interesting, he
said. A lot more technical. Also someone choked
on a fish bone. Imagine that, a man almost died.

19 thoughts on “Around 10:15, last night…

  1. If I had read this 10 years ago, I would’ve probably thought, Stream of consciousness, or experimental…. It’s a bit scary that reading it today, I can picture it happening in any bar. Dystopia… all over.

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  2. I rode by a sign in someone yard yesterday that read simply “dystopia” with an American flag next to it. I had to wonder whether it was fake news dystopia or dystopia because of the fake news-ers.

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  3. “Funny … kind of dark’. Yes, that final sentence which you put into the man’s mouth is very ironic. In a way, so is the whole concept of the observer deciding which evening is the more entertaining. Meanwhile, it may be time to pour myself a drink….

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      1. I meant kind of dark. It is very difficult to sometimes explain what one feels when reading something, especially, poetry. There is an element of humour lurking there somewhere. May be I am seeing things wrong. But that was my first impression.

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        1. There is no wrong or right, you’re absolutely correct that it is a function of when a person reads it and in what frame of mind, that can change what comes across! I am not always sure where a poem comes from, so am sure there isn’t one interpretation. That is what makes poetry itself so beautiful. Appreciate you explaining to me..thank you so much.

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