the lonely

can i buy you a drink
the man says
at the bar.
no, you tell him.
i have my
own, but thanks.
oh come on, he
says. don't be
like that. be friendly.
he puts his hand out.
you shake it firmly
and say,
i know that if
i accept a drink
from you, i'll have
to sit here and listen
to your life story. i
have to get going soon.
just one drink,
he says again
smiling and sipping
on his own. you
laugh and say, okay,
okay, one drink.
two hours later
he's showing
you pictures of
his grandchildren,
and showing you
the scar on his
forehead where
his third wife hit
him with a frying pan.
then he wants to arm
wrestle, and asks
you how many women
you've slept with
in your life. the lonely
are the friendliest
people at the bar.