by John Rocco
The Hammer got thrown out of the bar again
this time the last time she swears she’s never going back.
This time it was Halloween and she was dressed as a
sexy cop but she still got thrown out and she tells
me it wasn’t her fault because she was fighting
with the guy I really didn’t know she liked that much
and he spilled a pitcher of beer on her on purpose.
She threw a glass of beer in his face. Matt the bartender
turned the music off and took her drink—JD on the rocks—
out of her hand and then asked the bar, “Should I
throw her out?” And they all screamed “Yes!”
so he threw her out. (She texted me the next morning
that she wanted to throw up everything that happened
the night before.) He threw her out like the
time the construction workers followed her into
the bathroom and the time when she fought with
the mousy girl about spilling drinks on her.
He threw her out like the night she wouldn’t let
me leave the bar and said the greatest things ever
to me “Take me to your car” the least of it.
She got thrown out of the bar again and
she swears she’s never going back but
I missed her that last time even though
I was in the bar that night waiting for her
like the night I was waiting for her on my birthday
and she never showed till too late and come to think of it
she got thrown out that night too. I missed her.
She got thrown out of the bar again and she’s never going back
but I know she will, hope she will
go back to get thrown out again
because she is the reason all the seasons
throw out and throw up
life and death and lust and love
like cheap drinks on the bar’s
dirty old lonely widowed floor.
*John Rocco at MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/292819823
- ► 2010 (221)
- WHEN I GET HER LETTER
- Flowers are for Pansies
- These Nails Cause Me To Hesitate
- Fires Of The Night
- What Sign of Absence?
- I REMEMBER HAIFA BEING LOVELY BUT
- advice to the newly divorced
- memorial day at the twisted parrot
- ritual respect
- peach tree
- '61 was a hell of a year
- Black Maps
- On Relationships
- like yeats
- Booty Duty
- Before He Goes Bare
- IMAGINING HER
- reaction to the evening news
- The Jazz Musician
- THE CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRY
- THE DAMP KISSES WE WILL NOT HAVE
- TODAY I WANT TO SPIT GIGILO AT HIM
- LIKE GETTING THAT NOTE MONTHS AFTER
- Yellow Snow
- First Tulip
- New Things
- The Art of Forgetting
- THE PHOTOGRAPHS, THE FILMY WHITE GAUZY CURTAINS
- The Hammer Gets Thrown Out Again
- The Real Me
- What I should have done
- NOT ONLY DID HE
- SUDDENLY IT’S WHAT I THINK OF
- All So Easy
- THE DREAM OF MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE, THE STRA...
- THE TOO DARK TUNNEL OF A HALLWAY DREAM, DESPAIR, T...
- Brain Of Hitler
- One Day After Work
- The First Hooker (or Dead Eyes In Chicago)
- these last few weeks
- AFTER TOO MANY NIGHTS DRUGGED
- “IN THE VIOLET HOUR” ON A PAGE, MAYBE IN A POETRY ...
- ▼ November (48)