Nights for nothin'

I've spent nothin' on nights,
and nothin' seems to happen.
Sometimes there's
a little freaky-naughty,
legs in the air
this er that,
but it still seems
a little like nothin'.

"Jack Daniels for president!"
some nights,
with talk of music and literature
Or Buddha, Christ
and Mohammad with a Jihad Pinata
bustin' open with faith filled candies -
or nothin'.

Sad nights of silver
shimmering stars
sometimes,
breathing in old and
almost forgotten love
and exhaling in steam
and smoke...
Nights spent sometimes
fucking or fighting
or talking or remembering
but mostly all for nothin'

and that's plenty
if you're a tree,
but if you're hearing this
right now,
you're probably not a tree.