Driving Home

Orion hangs high
Watching over my shoulder
In midnight autumn air
Driving home from the club

Windows up heater on
Against new chill
Music blaring singing poorly
Mouth mumbling a mint

Warmed by my night in Eden
Reliving every smile
Every touch wondering
Could there be something more
With her

Suddenly in my driveway
I stumble from the car
Giggle at my clumsiness
Then sickly realize
I’m still drunk


This year marks the tenth anniversary of my first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular. To celebrate I’m posting my favorite poems from the book on Wednesday nights, of course.

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About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
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7 Responses to Driving Home

  1. Great poem, haha! I’m very glad that you’re alive from that drive.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. laurastamps's avatar laurastamps says:

    Good one!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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