new liquor store
the new liquor store
that i go to opens up
at nine in the morning
much earlier than
my other liquor stores
it’s cheaper too
the liquor merchant sits
behind a glass desk
that is filled with pints
of expensive booze
he’s a beady-eyed little asian man
he doesn’t say a word to me
i thought he didn’t speak english
until i heard him talking
to someone else
i tried saying hi once
but it didn’t work out
so we don’t talk
that’s okay because
it’s easier like that
i just come into his store
and get what i need
my cheap french red
the nectar of the gods
i think the only problem
that i have is in the way he judges me
because it’s early
because i look the way that i do
i’m not up for explaining myself to him
i’ve been judged by better
and i’ve had to explain myself
to nearly everyone
friends, parents, lovers, bosses,
and other liquor merchants
none of them seem to get me
neither will he
so i slam my money down
on the counter
he rises from his throne to take it
slamming my change back
the same way
he wraps my golden jewel bottle
in one of those plastic bags
that is strangling the earth
and i leave
safe in knowing that he and i
will go through this comedy act
tomorrow
at the same time
it’s some reassurance
one more common thing
to help me get through the day
unless, of course, he raises his prices
like the last one did to me
then the fucker and i are through
Friday, March 12, 2010
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4 comments:
words are bad translations, sometimes.
I love how so much emotion is here from the simple act of buying wine... Great interplay...
I love it! Are the rest of your poems like this? Lol.
thank you all
anthans...yes, unfortunately i live a crookedly sheltered life
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