Damm , sounds like home to me
T. S. Elliott's wasteland
Where puragatory worst residence live
Raise a toast to the Ghost of Christmas Past
for you haven't the pressence to make a future out of it .
Where happy hour never ends and friendship is sealed by the clink of glass
And all the women have traces of ***** on their lips as they ask hey buddy will you buy me a beer
Year after year until O'Hara's Pub and Grill becomes your Thanksgiving , Easter , Memorial Day , Christmas , and New Years Day
And they even paint a reserved parking space out back for you
But they were the only bar open for the blizzard when everyone took acid and danced barefoot in the snow

The Sharpie X on my hand stands out against my pale white skin

It says "you are a child"

With it a thirteen-year-old is equally restricted as a twenty-year-old

The sharpie X means no alcohol and it means no trust

It says "you are a liar"

With it they are making sure that you don't lie about your age to get alcohol

Is that what every person under twenty-one is?
A liar?
A kid?

The sound of my footsteps
is ringing in my ears
because the music has died
and the pizza
has soaked up
all of the alcohol

But you are still
pounding in my chest

You have a spark that blazes past my ice cold eyes,
you're the six on a weathered pair of bad decision dice.
You're the smoke in my lungs; my hip's friction's delight,
and you're where I want to be at the end of the night.

So pull me by my the clasps of my black leather coat,
past the bar, to the back, to the room that Aidan keeps aside.
Whisper in my ears, past the roar of alcohol and smoke,
these words that I've longed to hear for some time.

Say:
"You are the cherry on a cigarette; the blade of a knife.
You burn me and turn me to melting when you enter my sight";
I'll say:
"Your lips are my addiction, your *** is my television,
and your eyes are where I want to be at the end of the night."

Then we'll explore love and bad decisions on the table and the floor.
You'll pull me closer, bite my ear, and whisper. "Shut the door."

there sits Father Time
drinking a 50 year old scotch,
neat.
His compatriots
Sister Life and her Brother Death
sit close by,
the Sister sipping *** on the Beach
while Brother blows bubbles in his Shiraz.
All served at the cosmic bar by The Great Spirit
nursing a big 'ol Long Island Iced Tea.

I'm thinking of creating my next masterpiece,
Brother Death said.

"Maybe this time, don't use a bucket of paint for just one blade of grass,"
Father Time chuckled.

Sister Life spun around
and round on her spinny stool for several decades
until she hopped up atop the bar, proclaiming in French,
I don't make the best hexadecimal frittatas in the seventh dimension for nothing!  

Suddenly all brought their glasses together in a supernova clink
as they cheered
"May we continue to move forwards in the trajectory to wherever the hell we're going!"

Leaning back in my chair to give the crowd a scan
Outside the bar window up pulls a van
He came in with guns drawn, hands in the air!
Wallets and money liberated told not to stare
Gone now, reach into my sock for a 20 to pay for another dram

Fluorescent lights and lonely eyes
this bar is full of smoke and the smell of stale cigarettes
there's another fool getting into a fight
spilled beer leads to a broken face
and through a cloud of smoke
you walk in like you're looking for me
in the corner booth
you're drawing hearts on the palm of my hands
connecting straight to my heart
it feels all too familiar and I get up to leave
you reach over and whisper,
"we ain't no good for each other but we ain't made for no one else"
and I'm walking away
with you right behind me
I smile because you know I say with every sway
let's do
what lovers do
we'll hold each other
in parentheses,
your curves
holding onto mine
in perfect alignment
even if
it's only pretend.

You kind of remind me of her, when you laugh,
and your brown crow's feet
lines smile, and I can't help but wonder
what you're doing here
at a place like this
dark and empty and stained
with beer so I'll order you another drink
from the bartender and pay in cash
and conversate and stare
(and by the way, that's a cute hat)
because you remind me
so much of her.