Yesterday I drank absinthe

At the Lone Wolf bar.

There were artists everywhere,

And not enough air.

I walked to the bar next door

Where a bassist and a drummer

Wearing threatening masks

Were fighting some kind of war,

Sweat shining on their bare chests.

I sat at the bar,

Mildly entertained.

A man asked me if I was Betty.

(Another victim of online dating?)

He proceeded to buy me a drink

And talk my ear off

While I stared at my phone.

It always takes you ten hours

To write back.

Another girl would give up,

But not Miss Vella.