The Bartender Told me (2)

I don't know whether anyone will remember the first one ('my daddy shot a black man from a telegraph pole')... but this is the second and is also a true story.

 

He’d seen The Guy before -

been around a long while back,

tall, straight looking, twitch of a smile,

came in a couple after 7

every night and every night,

whisky after whisky  (,after whisky after whisky,)

til the bar was wiped clean

and he walked out cold sober, again,

for one more day he didn’t die.

 

The Girl was pretty,

he’d not seen her before,

small, shy looking, a gentle smile,

came in with The Guy,

who ordered a coke,

she ordered a beer, inhaled,

corrected herself and

The Guy uncorrected her,

confirmed the beer.

 

They sat ~

the table tilted

as his knees

brushed wood,

beer spilled

a pool

lieing still-frame

dead centre,

on the varnished oak.

 

and she wondered if he’d stoop down and lick the table clean,

a lizard tongue snapping out, a slow motion slide to lap it up,

whipped back with a smack of his lips as he sighs relief, release,

 

The Guy picked up the beer mat,

used the freefall to draw a square,

to draw four squares in the square,

to place the mat down on their cross,

its edges swelling as it soaked up dregs

of his life, he explained ~

top right, his family, top left, his work,

bottom right, himself, bottom left…

Alcoholics Anonymous.

 

‘And this is you’, he explained

as he tapped the mat, moved it

up, to the sides and back, slowly,

to soak up every corner of his life,

being in every part of his day

seeing his struggle,

accepting him as and who and how,

believing in him unconditionally

because she had,

and will now always, save him.

 

The Girl’s eyes didn’t blink

as her mind rocked through

a battle which she’d never win,

fait accompli, unless she killed, now, for love for love

for a life lived on egg shells,

cushioning him from himself

while she felt every blow

of his own fear, ignoring her

dreams of simple contentment.

 

The Bartender told me

that as The Guy kissed her,

stood, turned to leave,

she held back one step,

reached to the table,

raised the last of her beer

in a private, silent toast

to her own resignation

and another day she’d died.

Author's Note

Performance poetry style but would be interested to know if it suits just as well on the page.

Reviews

[Ladysue]

Wow, this was superb story telling. would love to hear it live. Very powerful. There is a lot going on within this piece. The emotions, beliefs, support, sacrifice to mention just a few. you portrayed this so intricately that there are layers upon layers. This was remarkable writing so well written..Riveting and captivating...

[Poeticadia]

A guy walks into a bar... I like the double-take at the beginning where the The Guy walks in and then after a time, walks in changed, with The Girl. It's a very familiar narrative (for me) and the characters are well-defined; his dependancy, her uncertainty about the situation in which she has put herself... though i suspect there are other levels here too that i am missing.

It reads well on the page because it is a strong narrative but i guess in performance, your voice and intonation would bring out a bit more in the story (i read it through several times on the page... though i'm slow at understanding at the best of times.)

You know, i particularly like 'a life lived on egg shells' - that has a strong resonance with the reality of the situation.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Quite an interesting tell and what an ending... there are lessons to be learned here.

[cartera]

Powerful is the word. Terrific atmosphere created and accurate observations of two on the parallel slides. Superb piece, put together in a modernist manner that added to the overall 'feel' of the piece.

As to performance v silent reading - I heard you.
Well done.
ATB
Alex.

[Robin]

this is some powerful writing , deep emotion expressed through intense character portrayal . I imagine this as a very dramatic piece performed live .