Saturday, 15 April 2017

15/30: Bartending Poem 538 or Eight O'Clock O'Neill Shutdown

You won’t win an argument with Kelly.

Damn your intentions,
Hang your execution,
Garrot your rhetoric,
Flay your dialogue.

She’ll take your drink offer,
One for her husband too,
And you’ll wave your point
About like a broken finger
As she, right, wrong,
Or just stubborn,

Shake-heads you out of the room.
You came to the bar ready for some
Hot-tongued neighborhood mingle,
Some bar-slapping laughs
And throat clearing gesticulations
As the lights dim, and the shots
Get stiffer, and the families get
Self conscious, and the music's
all songs of fucking or fighting,
You do not have to leave
With anyone, but at least
Would like to prove yourself right.

But you
An argument
With Kelly.

David, maybe, but not Kelly,
She has defeated crosswords smarter
Than you and riven sudoku more complex.

Pick your dialogues wisely, and know that
Once she’s gone, the new set takes their place
And you should probably be going too.

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