...Bar Tender (No. 2)...

This man walks into a bar... 

Yes, well… 

and I suppose you figure 

how this      is a joke, 

though he of whom 

you discern the butt, 

might choose to disagree, for he 

has always been    about the joke. 

 

This man walks into a bar and 

  but for the joke 

provokes little sympathy, 

for why would he exist if not

to be seen in abject    hilarity. 

 

This man walks into a bar 

and with a grin says, 

"Set 'em up Joe!" though 

no one finds him 

particularly clever. 

No one finds him 

wont wit but    for shit. 

No one sees what his drunken  

   lies have cost. 

No one's looked since 

his liquid self    got lost. 

 

This man walks into a bar alone 

and feels he's found a home, 

though alone is how you’ll find him. 

 

This man walks into a bar      room. 

Four squared walls. 

What need for bed, bath 

  or living wreck tangled? 

For there's peanuts on the rail. 

Pickles in the jar. 

Barley in the beer. 

Food group grouped a la pyramid o' cans. 

“Yo barkeep! 

Can you put that on my tab?" 

 

This man walks into a bar and 

wants you to know 

that in any other life, he 

would have been important, 

yet impotent is how he's seen; 

that women       can 

   in fact resist him; 

that he the Capone of Testosterone 

might take his bone   

   home alone. 

 

 

This man 

(if you can call him that) 

walks into a bar 

more stagger than swagger, 

daggers in his eyes, and 

notes how you 

failed to notice him. 

Oh, and this he cannot abide, nor 

hide how he done tried 

and found your ass guilty, 

but then,    you ain't alone. 

Hell, the whole damn world is guilty 

  as far as he's concerned. 

 

This man walks into a bar and says, 

"Hey you! 

         Yea you! 

What the fuck you lookin' at?! 

You don't think I won't 

   kick   your   ass?! 

You've no idea 

who you're messin' with Bud, 

   'cause let me tell you..." 

 

And it's just about then 

   that everyone turns 

back to their drinks, 

and someone deemed insignificant 

is herewith eclipsed 

by the rattle hum-drum 

of the cooler in the corner. 

 

This man walks into a bar 

to find you

sitting in his spot, 

and here the bartender 

instinctively reaches 

for the bat beneath the counter,  

yet is astonished to see 

this man calmly take the stool 

  there just next to you. 

To rest muddled head upon elbow

  and peer into your eyes. 

 

This man 

who walks into a bar 

  finds you    fascinating. 

 

Why? 

Why only moments ago, 

were you not that man 

who walked into a bar.

 

©2013 Jack Hubbell