happy hour

an angry man
with a full dark beard
yells
at you.
mistaking you for someone
he hates.
what? you say, me?
touching your chest.
me?
yes, you, he says.
I better not see you in
here again,
or it's over.
what? me?
you say again, sipping
your drink.
and looking for a way
out.
finally he puts on
his glasses
to read the menu
and looks over at you.
oops, he says.
you're not him, sorry.
relieved, you order
another drink,
but see your ex girlfriend
across the bar
with a gaggle of her friends.
she points at you
and angrily says something
that you can't hear.
her friends all look at you
with daggers in
their eyes.
me? you say?
what?