wallpaper
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.
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3 comments:
That last line puts the nail in. Excellent.
thank you, don.
We all have a place like this, John
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