O'Malley’s sits quiet,
Regulars slump on the stools,
Boxes settled against the wall.
Tinted windows keep the light dim.
Glasses clink,
Customers get sluggish.
The former accountant looks to the gin,
Looks to the whiskey,
Then back to his drink.
He begins to swallow his worth.
Stools and tables become occupied
With body's and last meal's leftovers.
The lawyer picks at the label
And spins his Sam in his hand,
The construction worker punches the cue ball
Straight into the corner pocket,
Then turns with an accompanied squeak of his boots.
The firefighter slides his keys to the bartender
Rubs his eyes,
Then slides hands down to his chin.
Scenarios drift into his mind,
Made up responses to made up questions.
We need to pay for Jimmy’s soccer.
Let’s go to Florida for spring break.
I need my radiator fixed in my car.
How is he going to tell her?
He lifts the glass to his lips,
Sips the foam and lets it fuzz in his mouth.
The sweat rolls off the edge of the glass,
and sits forgotten upon the bar.