by Jonathan Bolick

faces of the bar, grimacing
back at him, another drink
another door swing, another face

bar stools filled, bartender
busy, buzzing between bottles,

he looks up to catch a glimpse
of the “do you have too much
debt?”, commercial,

some ice cubes clink
in a lonely glass,
and the jukebox spills
a Molly Hatchet song.

When the clock shouts 3pm,
the older man near
the middle of the bar
says, simply,

“Son of a bitch”

and everyone drinks to that.

Copyright 2024 by Red River Review. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.
No work may be reproduced or republished without the express written consent of the author.