Man walks into bar.

By | 14 December 2009

Man walks into bar.
the police blame the bar
wallpaper, small window, the low mist hangs
alcohol fumes climb the walls
where dead men run a tab
You think this is a joke
said the ambulatory anus
A haze of horizon.
Man balks. Call him ‘The Tsar’
glasses shatter in his eye
which had been full of eastern promises
but now shies away from the light
when Tsar walks into the police
and says, ‘You lookin’ for a fight?’
– bar none – the habit-wearing one replies
don’t interrupt we’re doing the sudoku
too dunkin our churros d’orge in leaves to help ya
Soz bout that. The man looks on and laughs. He’s
all talk, no action. All bark, no bite.
Heads lift from their schooners to survey the stranger
but the eyes are glassed
in a kind of, Liam Gallagher way
an upstart, only three chords roll here
another round rolls over and plays dead,
the barkeep threatens cut-off
can easy size up sordid sag of time
until The Tsar’s dog noseys in, lookin’ for a morsel
a man walks into a bar
holding up a STOP sign, idle onlookers laugh
Idiots.
In a vodka oasis, screwing with the stasis.
Still knife.
Yet life still.
yet still, Idiots! they scream, and are barred, barred, finches that fight and fly
in equal measure
one potato, two potato, three potato, four
man walks into fish and chip shop –
it’s a touch too much to blame the fish
“Easy now”, he laughs squirting vinegar and piss
it was a fin thing until that fish monger
pushed in the long thin filleting blade and skillfully,
oh so skillfully, eased the flesh away from the bone
what have we here? a voice behind him said
filleting his thoughts
teasing heart from the bony ridge
griefstricken again
careful – the floor is slick with salty tears
that show you can take a man out of a bar but not the bar
out of the man that built the bar

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