The Bar Part 1

 And in my desperation

I would threaten 

To wreck myself

Upon the bar

A familiar watering hole

Close enough to the highway to not be considered as seedy as the one 

In the grove

It had been customary

For Blue and I

To play rounds of 

Pool and toss back 

One of the many microbrews 

They offered

If I was in a favorable mood

Pete’s wicked ale

Was my

Soup of the day

It had become less

Customary

To actually play any rounds

Of pool in the last few months

It had become 

My excuse

I was a lonesome sad sack

Despite having more friends 

And a regular social life 

Something I had longed my whole existence

I was ultimately alone

Aside from the gruff bartender

(They were all called Doug)

And the always cheery owner Scott

Who always greeted me with a round

On the house

I sat by myself

For hours

On that stool

Long enough for two

School mates 

From my past to walk in

And reminisce

One bought me a round 

And invited me to the 

Asian restaurant up the highway

To join his own disfunctional 

cavalcade

I politely declined

Drunken invitations

Are rarely sincere

The other 

School chum

I knew longer,

Revered him

For not being a shit

We grew up streets apart 

And both his parents

I liked quite well

His mom, my ccd teacher

His father, the local realtor

I bought him a round

Both chums gone

There was only Doug

And for some reason

That night

I gave up trying

To ruin myself

I entered into a conversation

With the tender

Just a dude 

Making a supplemental living

Pouring beer for 

Dipshit mostly white kids

In a mostly upper middle class town

Few details are remembered 

From what he and I talked about

But it was good

To reach across

The bar