theres nothing a cold beer a
raw egg in it and a shot couldnt repair
he sat at the end of a long bar
it was a bar
there was sawdust on the floor
you didnt go there to meet women
filled with working men
hardworking men
wanting three fingers
a cold beer
you didnt go there to talk
hell the bartender grunted
it was filled with cavemen
if you had something to say you kept it to yourself and took a drink instead
the guy next to you didnt want to hear your problems or troubles
he had his own
you worked it out yourself
you got gregarious too rambunctious
someone was there to shut your mouth
and if not the Joe seated beside you or at the bar
the barkeep kept a bat or cop nightstick
theyd shut you up
bounce you
theyd let the neighborhood know you werent welcome there no more
not welcome there you were blacklisted
nobody wanted to hear it
Keep yer shit to yerself
they served hard drinks for hard men
think of it as a confessional
where priests didnt dare enter
go cry on Fathers shoulder if you must
not there
think of it as a library
every stool filled with a book
keeping their stories to themselves
cinched tight between their bindings
1337, Thursday, 4
5. 17
1356 days remaining or less
1356 days remaining or less
