By Benjamin Shapiro

I sit across from her

Distracted by the crowd

She talks as I look around

The restaurant is loud

At the bar he sits

Inside, drinking his beer

Guzzling more like 

Giving phantom cheers

Head is nodding

Order another

Perhaps mourning

A lost brother 

Or just sits there


Wond’ring how

Things got this way

Barkeep avoids

Smile is fake

Hates the drunk

But money takes

He tips well

Money goes

Helps make

Liquor flow

Reminds me

Of days past

Days of living

Way too fast

Time wasted

Can’t be retrieved

Stories forgotten

Scars received

New beer 

Old glass

Head down

Prayer at mass

Wife talks

But I don’t hear her

Watching that drunk 

Through a mirror.


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