Sitting on a bench by the bar
facing a pool table covered over
with a reindeer themed table cloth
and crammed full of large platters
of store bought sandwiches, deli meats
assorted dressings, most notably
a half used open jar of mayonaise.
a man, a drunker man of about 40 years old
dances with his shirt pulled up
and pants pulled down exposing his whole rear to the food.
He shakes his naked ass, and the lower part of his gut
dust is 90% made of humans,
he dusts the food.
Another man with a long wizard beard
wearing black gym shorts white socks pulled up
and a christmas tshirt swings by and blesses
the food with his hand moving it in a cross shape
then a star shape
then whistling through two fingers.
He snatches a dry boring sugar cookie and pops it in
his mouth.
A black man of about 35 with a large backpack and
crappy headphones pops his head around a pillar
smiling he says
Hey Larry
You say
I'm not Larry
He looks at you weird, as if you're lying
I'm not, I promise
He looks like he thought he would make out with you, with Larry
his eyes slacken
he turns to the food, grabs a turkey club wrap
and stalks off, half bent from the weight of his bag.
The whiskey you have cools you and warms you.
Your hand is icey, outside it was raining before you came in,
with cold air that made your breath white.
You sit close next to your friend
knees touching and thighs too. You shift your weight so
even more leg touches, he does not move away, he sips his drink
he dries the edges of his mustache
he points at the semi nude guy dancing near the food
He says something too low to hear under the christmas music.
The whiskey has got you by the backs of the eyelids
you half smile at your friend. you put your hand on his knee
briefly, you hop up quickly and gather a cocktail napkin full
of bad storebought bulk cookies. one filled with red jam
one flakey but not dry enough one covered in hard
holiday sprinkles. Your friend takes a bite of each.
You scan the bar for the black man, chewing dryly on
the jam filled cookie. You want, you think, you want
warmness, company, and sex. That man will do
Your friend can not.
facing a pool table covered over
with a reindeer themed table cloth
and crammed full of large platters
of store bought sandwiches, deli meats
assorted dressings, most notably
a half used open jar of mayonaise.
a man, a drunker man of about 40 years old
dances with his shirt pulled up
and pants pulled down exposing his whole rear to the food.
He shakes his naked ass, and the lower part of his gut
dust is 90% made of humans,
he dusts the food.
Another man with a long wizard beard
wearing black gym shorts white socks pulled up
and a christmas tshirt swings by and blesses
the food with his hand moving it in a cross shape
then a star shape
then whistling through two fingers.
He snatches a dry boring sugar cookie and pops it in
his mouth.
A black man of about 35 with a large backpack and
crappy headphones pops his head around a pillar
smiling he says
Hey Larry
You say
I'm not Larry
He looks at you weird, as if you're lying
I'm not, I promise
He looks like he thought he would make out with you, with Larry
his eyes slacken
he turns to the food, grabs a turkey club wrap
and stalks off, half bent from the weight of his bag.
The whiskey you have cools you and warms you.
Your hand is icey, outside it was raining before you came in,
with cold air that made your breath white.
You sit close next to your friend
knees touching and thighs too. You shift your weight so
even more leg touches, he does not move away, he sips his drink
he dries the edges of his mustache
he points at the semi nude guy dancing near the food
He says something too low to hear under the christmas music.
The whiskey has got you by the backs of the eyelids
you half smile at your friend. you put your hand on his knee
briefly, you hop up quickly and gather a cocktail napkin full
of bad storebought bulk cookies. one filled with red jam
one flakey but not dry enough one covered in hard
holiday sprinkles. Your friend takes a bite of each.
You scan the bar for the black man, chewing dryly on
the jam filled cookie. You want, you think, you want
warmness, company, and sex. That man will do
Your friend can not.
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