poem of the day 02.20.13

earrings

he says he’s just kidding

but i wonder how hard i’d have to hit him

to get him off his stool

i mean would it take an effort on my part

or would one stiff blow to the cheek knock him out

but he claims he’s kidding

still, he keeps touching my shoulder

trying to turn me from side to side to check out my earrings

when all i’m trying to do is get a couple of beers at the bar

for me and my wife

he says, earrings

and i say, yeah, man, earrings

he looks at them like they’re some kind of foreign jewels

then he laughs at me

i’m trying to be peaceful here

saturday afternoon

the day after a blizzard

i understand the people have felt cooped up

and want to let off a little steam

even i’m out amongst the masses

but i don’t like this guy’s face for some reason

probably because he’s laughing at me and my earrings

i get a silly sense of rage when someone laughs at me

even at my age

or i just don’t like guys who can’t hold their drink

there’s little worse

than some loaded fool before five o’clock in the afternoon

and when i look back at my wife

she rolls her eyes

i wonder how much she likes drinking in this place

should i knock this guy on his ass

he catches me looking at her

turns toward my wife and smiles

says, earrings, and points to me as if she didn’t know

earrings, she says back to him

he flicks one of them and laughs again

as if this weren’t the twenty-first century

you some kinda pirate? he asks

and i say, yeah, looking at his fingers

figuring out the best way to break each one

but then our drafts come

and when i turn back toward the guy

he’s already on to someone else

some poor bastard who had the audacity to get a new haircut

then come walking into this bar

like he’s the mayor of new york city

or something.