skelly's "happy" hour

I come here every evening;
this place my familiar haunt.
There’s nothing I need to say;
they always know what I want.

The barkeeps are unperturbed
as I sit and sip my drink,
barely aware how transparent
I am, never asking what I think. 

They treat me like I am nothing
more substantial than eye-candy;
to be so objectified 
around Halloween ain't dandy. 

To have me adorn the bar in my
boney physique is sappy;
I really can’t quite understand
why they call this hour “happy”.

Liz McFadzean