11:58 a.m at the
panther hollow inn
third beer
back of the bar
smell of french fries for the first lunch comers
air thick with oil
i look up the long steps
that lead to long bathrooms
think it too much a journey
lonesome traveler at my side unread
where i’m at
surrounded by old brick and college pennants
old waitresses
old bartender who examined my i.d.
like fine wine in the light
who on this campus
is sitting getting drunk at 11:58 a.m.?
no, 11:59
and soon the place will be swarmed
with traffic from craig street
with library janitors and clerks
with shop owners
with bank tellers and comic book merchants
watch the old waitress slip on grease
yell, goddamnitphil
grease oozing down the walls
to the sea green tile floor
i wonder if i have time for another beer
would only make me miss
maybe half the american art class
but four beers would
ensure a conversation with the red-head girl
portia bauer
got the name on only three beers last week
three beers and french fries
then dropped my books
my notebooks my journal
all over frick fine arts auditorium
DRUNK, she said laughing
two fat bald men drinking the same as me
three well-dressed ladies walk in the phi
then out
eat the rich
high noon now
officially my first liquid lunch
i watch a library janitor stumble in
to an already poured beer
like clockwork he plays the slot machines
like clockwork the jukebox plays bob seger
pittsburgh you common whore
in the glare of a cold bright march afternoon
phil cleans the grease
only to grease again
shit, i remember its kris’ twenty-second birthday
hoisting my pint class student
sucking down the last dregs of colorado piss diet beer
i celebrate him
i celebrate myself.
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