Friday, April 3, 2015

poem of the day 04.03.15

good friday

i used to drink in a bar
that was open at 9 a.m. year round

you’d find men in there
well, mostly men
sucking up the suds on thanksgiving and christmas

they looked happier than anyone i’d ever seen
shoving hunks of dry turkey or greasy christmas ham
down their throats with their sullen families

it was a good place
if you could tolerate some bullshit
and the arbitrary conversation here and there

like i said, the place was never closed

except good friday
the bar was closed from twelve to three

the bartender kicked the drunks out
so they could go and cleanse themselves in church
mumbling along to the passion of the christ
with the other hoodwinked

but around two-thirty
they’d all start to congregate

third shifters and unemployment boys
drunk dads and retired old farts

mona, who fucked everyone in the bar
but her boyfriend, benny

a convention of the neighborhood’s saints
shaking in their faded beer buzz

waiting in the gray
for the miller light sign to come back on
red and illuminated

and the wooden door to click open
like the pearly gates of heaven.

1 comment:

Don Wentworth said...

It's another beauty, Jay. I reposted on FB Don