i once wrote a poem
i once wrote a poem
to a waitress
at a bar
i frequented
down on my luck one night
she gifted me
a beautiful and genuine
smile
i fell in love
she was already beautiful
but bestowing that smile
she became immaculate
she became my savior
goddess
and i prayed
to her as lover
i had a dream
she and i
were Christmas shopping
i told a friend
in confidence
he laughed and said
holding hands and
skipping stones, eh?
sarcasm aside
he’s a brother
and usually has my back
though there was one time
of questionable loyalty
with a disgruntled cabbie
but i’ve learned to forgive…
and so another night
my brother and i
returned to the bar
he’d been with
the night of
the apparition
the bar was packed
she saw me
and blessed me
another smile
nerves blurred my eyes
dried my mouth and shredded my gut
opportunity slipped past
neglected
all night i watched…
…and drank…
at bar close
i took a meager dollar
(pretty sure i had fives, tens, and twenties)
and wrote on it
the craziness you stir
in me
makes me want
to set fire to a couch
on the way out
i handed her
the defaced dollar and said
see you around
my brother
wanted to know
what i’d written
he just about pissed himself…
i second guessed myself
and stayed low to the ground
days passed
i wrote another poem
this one said clichéd things like
let Cupid’s aim be true
and
everyone here but you and me
is superfluous
when the day came for another round
i needed various rounds and near annihilation
before i could set foot in that place
the same partner in crime accompanied me
he said i was crazy
i didn’t argue
sitting at our usual spot
i was distraught
not to see her
anywhere around
i was down
and slid further with
each drink
then i saw her
she came down for stock
Jack Daniels.
they must have run out upstairs
she never worked upstairs
she must have been filling in
i saw my opportunity
i drained my drink
and told my friend
this is it
he shot me a look of terror
then said,
good luck, dude
i caught up with her on the stairs
i said hi
she said hey
i asked her if she’d liked my other
‘poem’
on the dollar bill
she laughed
sweetly
and said she did
although
it was a bit
strange
i agreed and said
i’d written her another
not so strange
she smiled
that…smile
her angelic smile
and said
don’t get me wrong
i’m flattered
but
i
have
a…
boy
friend
couldn’t breathe
sank through the stairs
and then the floor
and kept sinking lower
i mumbled
i was sorry
and didn’t mean
to waste her time
she said something else
i’ll never know
i was already
down the stairs
i didn’t see my friend
i didn’t see much of anything
i bellied up to the bar with bleeding need
the bartender failed to look my way
or accept my pleas
it was packed
i reached over the bar
and grabbed a shot glass
and a bottle of stock
Jack Daniels
i took a few shots
rapid succession
next
i felt a couple sets
of strong hands
attached to strong arms
rip me off the stool
i remember floating
over the packed floor
the Red Sea parting
and out into the street
i remember it being winter
i remember not having a coat
i remember calling the bouncers cocksuckers
and saying
how i was gonna skullfuck’em
or something eloquent
along those lines
i remember new sets of hands
attached to different arms
grabbing me from behind
and slamming me face first
onto the icy, cold, and solid pavement
i remember how tight the cuffs were
i remember howling,
weeeee haaaaa! let’s go to jail!
i remember the cops laughing and saying
we weren’t going to jail
i remember the drunk tank
i remember the internment process
i remember planning my escape
before i passed out
i remember the next day
and having to watch
Clean and Sober
with Michael Keaton
Batman
Beetlejuice or Betelgeuse
for the second time-
same place
different circumstances
i remember waiting hours to blow zeroes
i remember the cigarette lighter
that was a burner on the wall
with a button you had to press
and stick your face and cigarette
dangling from your lips
onto the glowing coil
i remember the price tag
of my night in the tank
i remember that girl’s smile
and from time to time
still look at a couch
through a pyro’s eyes
WHO IS CAPTAIN B?
Captain B. Seafarer. Lover of shore leave. Collector of heads. Disseminator of tales. Twitter: @NPeligeiro
Image created on Stable Diffusion
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