The Harbour Inn

by John Rocco

In the bar
Steve the old guy
told me he used to read a lot
TO HAVE AND HAVE NOT
and
FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
but now he’s a drunk and can’t
see the page, can’t see it he says:
“Why should I buy a book if
I can’t even see it?”
“Go to a library,” Chris says
but Steve doesn’t hear him
and tells us a story about
when he was staying in
the Hamptons during
the winter because it
was cheap and one
dark cold February
night, the late 70’s,
he was bored
so he dropped a hit
of LSD and walked
the mile to the bar.
The wind and the night
thrilled him, went through
him and then he was at
the empty bar, empty
except for a little guy
with a high voice.
Steve sat next to him
tripped to his high voice
and rolling words
and it was Truman Capote!
He was delighted to
hear that Steve
was blasted on acid
and they had an evening
of drink and talk
the night a howler outside.
Closing time and
Capote offered Steve
a ride home even though
he didn’t have a car.
Steve politely declined
preferring to walk the mile
home, the wind pouring
through him and the stars
pouring hot through the cold sky.


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