Tuesday, August 17, 2010

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
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
and un afraid
of death
or something
like it.

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