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.

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