The painting opposite the bartender
hangs him every night.
It's a portrait of his ex-wife
who owns the joint and
holds the mortgage on his rotting future.

He tells his regulars it's all the way
you look at things, or you can make a
case for truth or untruth about anything.
What's your pleasure?

But always some vagary
will collide his glance against the portrait--
and it's then he feels himself twist
a
little
creaking
millimeter
more...