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    dots Submission Name: Thursday Night Fridaydots

    Author: HisNameIsNoMore
    ASL Info:    28 - Male - Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    2.95 - 75/194/254
    Words: 230
    Class/Type: Poetry/Dark
    Total Views: 703
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1644


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThursday Night Fridaydots

    I find myself alone again,
    observing the laughter and spirit around
    the fake mahogany bar
    old blonde women stare
    their raspy whispers echo between drags of their
    full flavor cigarettes.

    “Thursday Night Special"
    still available Friday.
    Precarious music gives no atmosphere,
    as the words of Layne Staley
    fall on deaf ears
    thoughts not relevant here.
    Aerosmith garners garbled karaoke
    cheap whiskey sings “Sweet Emotion”
    in lowly places where
    the dejected don’t feel homely.
    If only –
    they knew that they too
    are together in matrimony,
    joined forever
    celebrating with liquid ceremony.

    My waiter, my bartender
    you could tell a local man,
    held a swagger and a shaking hand
    a long draw to his question –
    “You here for lunch or a drink, man?”
    An alcoholic,
    explains his jittery stance,
    quivering jaw and yellow eyes.
    I smile, and ask for whiskey
    neat, a double, but neat –

    Ponder, I stare at local adornments,
    awards and harrowing memorials –
    Tobacco stained newspapers
    hung on the wall
    high school sports no one cares about.
    Life in a small town I guess,
    some shuffling stuck in the sludge.
    Remembering the golden times,
    before they were young.
    A life in decline, I think
    as my drink arrives,
    I decide to define my time
    in this small town
    as a man lost on tape –
    stuck in rewind.

    Submitted on 2019-04-28 16:34:28     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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