At 9:43 in the morning
Seven days of every week
He sits waiting on the doorstep
For the man who brings the keys
To taste the free eye opener
And shake the demons free
He clears the bar of glasses
Takes out bags of bottles
Cleans the filthy bathroom
Sweeps the dusty floor
Then sits on a barstool listening
For knocking on the door
It’s the functioning alcoholics
Impatient for that first double
To open up their day,
Provide them with false courage,
And chase the shakes away
Soon they’re all on barstools
With a few shots down the hatch
They talk of sports and politics
Opinions all spun to match
Each point made is redundant
A plaintive echo from the past
The Day Man sits in a corner,
His drinks and two eggs are free
The owner’s buying his tomorrow
To clean up tonight’s debris
He glances at the Day Man
But a drunk is all he sees
He room’s above a dance school
The music rises through the floor
Self pity dances by in every recollection
He lays bricks in a self made prison
Drinking toasts to his own reflection
And slides closed the cell room door
All his life his will has failed him
But tonight will be different, they’ll see
He’ll mix bourbon with pills and sorrow
Sufficient to break him free
Relief will come tomorrow,
Before the owner can use his key
At 9:43 the next morning, it’s 34 degrees
He’s found sitting against the doorway
By the man who brings the keys
No need of bourbon doubles
The demons are no longer trouble
The Day Man has broken free