The Bar

by John Rocco

I was drinking with Dr. Manhattan
and the Comedian in some waterfront dive
with the world broken into crystal blue chaos.
We smoked big cigars. Our drinks:

Time and Space (Dr. M’s)
Bourbon (the Comedian)
A Manhattan (Me as tribute to Dr. M)

We were laughing and talking
about the good old days, the good old days
Vietnam when in walks a group of superheroes
and I don’t even know half their names.
Powers demented and all over the place.
No respect for the old guard. They had nerve.
They cursed and spat and demanded drinks like
it was their right, their privilege, their destiny.
They all had weird problems and fears.
They made me sick.
Where were their lost ones and revenge scenarios?
Where were their scars and bills and burials?
All they had was wild hair and digital pills
and before Dr. Manhattan could turn them into
nothing molecules inside a sea of nothing
and before the Comedian could raise the M-16
and before I could take the blade from my cane
there was Norse Thunder and Viking Lightning
and blinding blonde Thor stood there
hot hating heavy hammer humming in his hands.
Thor can drink any superhero under the table
and he knows it.