He sits slumped on the barstool
Lips twitch as he fights to hold a grin
Aiming sighs at designs on the bottles
The owner’s dogs, when they whine, kind of look like him
But when old thoughts arise
He’s the happiest hound drooling on the bar
Howling divine from the bathroom line
While pinballs trigger visions of dead stars
Says he’ll stowaway to Rome
Itching to smash a holy skull
While back, his girl picked out his casket
High sheen shellacked jet black and cheap
She said, “I like that it reminds me of his jacket.
Hate to think he’s cold in the earth so deep.”
Now, he shivers alone when he’s home
Haunts the bar for some company
Says, “Let’s leave these fiends to tweak freely in the shadows.
My roof’s got a view of the neighbors new TV.”
His face looks like a painting in the disco light
He’s treated like a stranger though he’s here each night
A lotus slowly opens in a bowl near his seat
He wishes he could smell it but his nose always seems to bleed
Says,
This place is kind of a memorial site
For a sprouting love whose bud was cut.
I’d sign the lease, tend the needs of this dive-shrine
To keep it’s relics from the jaws of the garbage truck.
Cause it’s getting hard to protect, you see.
Time untwines all ties to memory.
And people rarely come to pay their respects
Or sing some Pasty Cline over a backing beat.
Soon I’ll find a room in the city.
Leave my things for the weeds, cause all I’ll need’s
A radiator and some space to breath.
A place to get some sleep and outlive my dreams.