Dec 2014
11 o'clock on a Friday evening
I walked through closed doors
Into the rustic old bar
I sat in the faded bar stool that creaked like the floorboards
on the stained seat cushion molded to fit my *** like a glove
From the regular nights
The bartender walked by twitching his mustache, cleaning an old mug
I slapped my hand on the tarnished bar
He nodded, filling a patchwork glass with the same old beer
That swished frothily in my mouth with the taste
Of old gym socks and dog ****
I stared into the mirror reflection before me
Examining people while sipping my taint of a beer
The waitress reciting play lines devotedly between orders
Still trying to get into her new life on Broadway
Stuffing tips in her mismanaged pockets
that wanted a college degree, but chose fancy clothes
A lawyer and a teacher in the corner of the room
No one likes drinking alone
Sitting in a battered, splattered seat booth
Lamenting about their dreaded work
Wishing in their heart of hearts
That the paths they had chosen at 19 were switched
One found he loved kids and one loved the justice system
If only it were simple to swap uniforms and degrees
Two destitute prostitutes lingering, smoking wispy cigs outside
Waiting for work
One wanted to be a dentist
Till the ****** that protected her dreams broke
And she lost her baby regardless
And the other wanted to be a politician
Until her dreams were beaten down by
A man, a level below Neanderthal, who viewed her body
As a conversation where his fists do the talking
The bartender stalled at the TV between drinks
Observing the young sports analyst on the TV
In a crisp, tailored suit with slick black hair
Nostalgically imagining himself talking emphatically about his passion
Mouthing the comments of what the analyst should've been saying
But he served drinks filled with faded dreams
And I turned and saw myself in the glossy mirror
Holding the poor excuse for a drink to my lips
And I saw the people around me like spirits in my eyes
I worked 9-5 in an office that’s as fun as feet being nailed to the ground
The only thing I changed in my routine whether I did my
Laundry on a Friday or Saturday
And I twitched my hand to ask for a different drink
But I kept it down and sipped on my beer
I walked through closed doors
Into the rustic old bar
I sat in the faded bar stool that creaked like the floorboards
on the stained seat cushion molded to fit my *** like a glove
From the regular nights
The bartender walked by twitching his mustache, cleaning an old mug
I slapped my hand on the tarnished bar
He nodded, filling a patchwork glass with the same old beer
That swished frothily in my mouth with the taste
Of old gym socks and dog ****
I stared into the mirror reflection before me
Examining people while sipping my taint of a beer
The waitress reciting play lines devotedly between orders
Still trying to get into her new life on Broadway
Stuffing tips in her mismanaged pockets
that wanted a college degree, but chose fancy clothes
A lawyer and a teacher in the corner of the room
No one likes drinking alone
Sitting in a battered, splattered seat booth
Lamenting about their dreaded work
Wishing in their heart of hearts
That the paths they had chosen at 19 were switched
One found he loved kids and one loved the justice system
If only it were simple to swap uniforms and degrees
Two destitute prostitutes lingering, smoking wispy cigs outside
Waiting for work
One wanted to be a dentist
Till the ****** that protected her dreams broke
And she lost her baby regardless
And the other wanted to be a politician
Until her dreams were beaten down by
A man, a level below Neanderthal, who viewed her body
As a conversation where his fists do the talking
The bartender stalled at the TV between drinks
Observing the young sports analyst on the TV
In a crisp, tailored suit with slick black hair
Nostalgically imagining himself talking emphatically about his passion
Mouthing the comments of what the analyst should've been saying
But he served drinks filled with faded dreams
And I turned and saw myself in the glossy mirror
Holding the poor excuse for a drink to my lips
And I saw the people around me like spirits in my eyes
I worked 9-5 in an office that’s as fun as feet being nailed to the ground
The only thing I changed in my routine whether I did my
Laundry on a Friday or Saturday
And I twitched my hand to ask for a different drink
But I kept it down and sipped on my beer
