DanceswithwordsOver a beer
February 7th 2008 04:08
“Over a beer”
Everyone here is an idiot
The horse race results race and flicker on 18 TV’s
The guy next to me just told me for the third time
About his great rugby playing days in 1964
He talks through me
Showering me in his loud beer breath
‘What are schoo reading?’
I’m defocused staring wondering and listening
Like the warble of a radio not quite on its station
The drivel, the repetition, the mundaneness of it all
‘Shaa win anything?’
I’m not gambling, not talking just thinking over a beer
I feel my stubbled face for a smile
My chin feels good
‘I ushhhed to play prop. Schhee these hands!’
‘600 scchheep a day I shhheeared. Buggers’
‘Tough bastard I was tough’
‘Another one?’ A young woman’s voice this time
Her wealth of Oktoberfest bosom feeds the poor men suckling at the bar
Loose change and old betting tickets stacked precariously before their wandering teary eyes
Their conversation turns to their own lost love, divorce and the bitch leaving with everything
I leave them over a beer for the very same reason
to get away from what I’d become if I stayed.
Dances
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