Rant In A Bar

by A.g. Synclair

Dumb Bitch
bars are meant for drinking,
not texting.

In better days,
men would come here
to talk of books, and life,
and women, and sport.

Men of letters would cry,
and drink, and smoke,
and write in filthy notebooks
with curled up edges

on cocktail napkins
and matchbook covers
that became novels,
and stories, and poems.

Wisdom borne of Scotch and Bourbon,
The Brooklyn Dodgers, and
not a frilly umbrella drink in sight.