FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

The Pub

written by: JK Weaver

 

Here I am again
It lured me back
The wood
The stools
The agreeable bartender
So similar to the rest
A familiar glow of brass
The drunk in the corner asks
The girl in the short skirt laughs
And while bartender might bend his ear
And chat the chat
He is just doing his bit
Just earning the paper
That he uses to sit
In other places like this

It’s not just the beer
It’s mostly the beer
But it’s the people too
Not the group of whooping women
Or the plotting men
It’s the loners
The sad faces
Crying out for love
And conversation
And to be needed
Waiting to impart wisdom
And some really are wise
They’ve seen it
They’ve felt it
That’s why they drink
To remember and to forget
Simultaneously

As for the whiskey drinkers
And the vodka drinkers
And the hard liquor drinkers
Those guys have really seen it
If I’m the cream
They are whatever is opposite cream
I know
I’ve been there before
And god knows I’ll do my best never to go back

Beer
Just give me a beer
A cold one
With a good head
And maybe later on
When day becomes night
I’ll take you up on that whiskey

JK Weaver

JK Weaver

29 years old. Working the 9 - 5.30. White Collar. Bored half to death. Writing to exhale.
JK Weaver

Latest posts by JK Weaver (see all)

Read previous post:
I Want. . . written by Christine E. Ray at Spillwords.com
I Want. . .

I Want. . . written by: Christine E. Ray @Christabelle666   I want. . . I whisper to empty rooms...

Close