Disclaimer

This publication is the exclusive property of cjschlottman, and is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this blog may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, cjschlottman. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Any Monday Night

(Baby Boom n.  a sudden, large, sustained increase in the birthrate, especially the one in the United States and Canada from the later 1940s through the early 1960s)


Lined up at the bar like crows on a fence

our conversation is muffled by the din
of others talking.  We are baby boomers at the 
neighborhood bar, single every one of us, avoiding 
another meal alone.

There is comfort in familiar faces, bustling servers, 
the smiling barkeep, clanging sounds from the kitchen, 
the smell of grease.  We nuzzle our drinks, sip slowly, 
roll the taste around in our mouthes - and sigh.

One watches “Jeopardy” with closed captioning and 
shouts out the answers.  Another bemoans the stupidness 
of others while yet another talks to the air.  Two slip 
outside to smoke.  Left to our own devices, we eat 
fried food and have another drink.

Conversation lags and we climb off our stools, deal 
with our coats and start for the door.  Along the way, 
we stop to speak to other boomers we recognize but 
cannot name.  We smile and wish each other good night 
and walk to our cars and drive home.



© 2013 cjschlottman


Post a Comment