It's On

The actual locus of it's on is when eyes stop darting around for signs of it's on

as they did for years, back when a year was a year and not this flimsy junk Temu just 

threw in the soup without my asking.

Back when drinks were drinks, real pissy things, a thick tang for the carpet, back when

friends just piled on through and you knew them and not at all, real friends who couldn't drink

nor understand the morse code tapped out on knees knocking together on the bench seat.

When will it ever be on and once on when will I ever stop thinking I should just steam in there,

plunder a look, keep taking until the desperate moment that ends once you come to patting your jacket down for your toothbrush. 

When will I be back to when toilets were toilets, places where you sat out a war. When will I drop these times and places where lives the thought I should have had it's on.