Get over it or get out

The old men in the pub look at me

As I climb onto one of the stools.

This is one of those bars where

Strangers are suspect

And if your grandfather

Didn’t drink here

Then you’re a stranger

This isn’t the kind of bar

Where you go to down your sorrows

These eyes have seen it all before

And give no sympathy

Even to their own

Right or wrong

Love sick or not,

You come here to drink

Not to wallow,

Self pity gets scrapped

Off your shoes at the door

Or kicked out with dirty looks

If you drag it in,

They don’t want to hear

Any crap about

How bad you feel

Or how wronged

You think you are,

Each man tells you

To get over it,

Get on with your life

Each man says

Any woman has the right

To tell you to get lost

Even for no better reason

Than being sick of seeing you

Take it outside,

If you can’t take it

The stares say,

We don’t need to hear

About it,

Get over it, or get out.