He always carried a straight razor in his pocket and wore chip on his shoulder like some twisted reward .
I noticed his hands shaking as he set the bar the scars of time had changed him.
Gone was that Cavalier charm the boyish sense that had lured so many to him before.

We made eye contact yet spoke no words between us I simply called the bartender over to order another round sometimes there's no need to ask.
Been a while hasn't it?
He asked in a voice I could hardly recall.
Yeah it has I replied still never diverting my eyes from the bar.

There was no need to ask and I knew full well  not to invite the conversation to begin.
With him it was always a hustle a shark always have to keep swimming it's just its nature.

We sat there to strangers known only in title as friends.
Both in are separate corners, both to caught up in our own ******* to care about the other.
Too many miles had separated us now only scorn and ridicule forged this moment like iron to a blacksmiths fire and hammer.

The time passed slowly as the old jukebox played hanging as heavy as the stale smell of smoke in the air.
He always wore that chip on his shoulder a badge of honor for none to see.
I took one last look into the mirror's reflection and had to question.
Just what the **** become of me.