the blue mirror grille

the old men
at the bar with
a pack of
cigarettes
and keys out
a steel lighter
next to the squared
ashtray,
a tumbler
of whiskey,
scotch perhaps
on the rocks
glimmering gold
in the dim
smokey room.
a string of blinking
christmas lights
hung on nails.
the blue flickering
screen
of a tv above
the bar might
have a game
on. a fight.
working men
nursing their drinks,
pondering
things. nodding.
a few women
with bad intentions
sit crossed
legged, waiting
at the end of the bar,
near the door,
shivering when
it opens in their
short tight skirts.
a wide tall
mirror with
bottles stacked
on glass
shelves is on
the other side
while a fat
man in a white
shirt and skinny
black tie
wipes aimlessly
the long
mahogany bar.