Tuesday, May 11, 2010

poem of the day 05.11.10


i’ve been in this bar
three times this week

there must be something for me
in this place

but i can’t tell what it is

i just know that i’m
wearing out my welcome

no longer a novelty

they don’t seem as excited to see me

the bartender just pours my drink and nods

i sit there waiting
with my gut hanging over my belt
as a drunk with a bad moustache
belts out eagles songs

looking at a poster of irish writers
that hangs on the wall

it’s them and me and james joyce

we’re all in it until the end

none of us
new kids on the block in this place

we’re like statues of men and women

hopeful statues holding drinks

faded as the wallpaper has gotten
from too much sun coming in
through the dusty window
by the old front door
that one that sticks when it starts to get
humid outside.


Issa's Untidy Hut said...

That last line puts the nail in. Excellent.

John Grochalski said...

thank you, don.

Bukowski's Basement said...

We all have a place like this, John