Westy bar

by Ben Smith

No one likes the juke box

and any time it's on

the locals ask to have

it shut off.

Every one drinks alone

but in company

and quietly

sip at their beer

with the thunder

of loneliness.

Every time the door opens

people snap their heads

and look to see if it might

be some one who they

know and will break them

from the annoying and

tedious conversation

they are having with people

they hate.

The old dudes that read from

glasses

and

they

have grey hair.

Putting 10 buck bets on every race.

Any thing to elude them from

the outside

and make belive

that it's okay to be this

old and

drunk and

lonely

and un afraid

of death

or something

like it.