(sorry, working out some kinks)

Dim, flame-shaped lights reflect off the brass trimmed bar. Liquor filled crystal standing stoic on the shelf; ready to give of their contents. The kind of courage promoting and inhibition shrinking liquid served up, one shot at a time.

Smoke and mirrors suffocate lungs and dreams. Beings just being....
Entranced by what's most hard to define, life on the adult playground. Waiting for that blues poet to uphold to the atmosphere that's not, in the scene tonight. To expect is to be let down. Being numb to the feelings temporarily pleases ones soul yet, seldom satisfies.
It’s just another Saturday night anytown U.S.A.

On the make shift stage, the wanna be poet lashes out his poorly written verses. Nobody seems to mind which in an odd way convinces the band that they are destined for stardom but, the truth is their fame barley reaches outside of the small circle of friends and a few women in town that hang around mostly for the free drugs. They play here every weekend, butchering the same cover tunes and introducing originals to an audience that doesn’t listen and can’t wait for the next break. Arrogance is a blinding attribute.

At the far left of the bar you will find Susan sipping her White Russian and smoking her ultra light ultra feminine time killers. She is good at heart but, lets everyone with the strength to push open the door to this cave of depression take advantage of her. Hoping one day he will walk back in and make good on all the promises of their once well intended vows. John has been long removed from that contract, his wife of seven years and their three beautiful daughters carry the soul of his attention still, every Saturday, on the last stool to the left, she waits...

Barb pours a good drink. At twenty seven and twice a mother she understands the connection between a couple of stiff ones and a good tip. Her long red hair and that bright Irish smile tend to make one forget just how many he has had. Her playful manner has lead to more than a few fantasies around here but, she is a mother first and a good one.

We all look out for her, not that see needs it. She will make it home about three am,
Get her three hours sleep, cook breakfast in the pans given to her by Susan and drive her kids to school in the twenty year old Dodge Bill somehow keeps running for her. The four hour shift at the quick mart starts at eight, and then it’s off to get another three hour sleep before picking the kids up from school.

She won’t have to be back at the cave until nine, plenty of time for homework; I bet she wears that short leopard print skirt again; her youngest has a birthday next weekend.

Bill orders one last drink pushes himself from the bar and heads to the men’s room.
Carefully avoiding the tiny parquet seldom used excuse for a dance floor. He can’t bare the thought of stepping onto it since Jan lost her fight with cancer. Thirty five years together, countless shuffles of feet and countless Saturday nights on that dreadful little floor.

Barb reaches behind the bar and raises the lights. The smoke more visible now, the souls more transparent, everyone knows its last call. To some this means one last desperate line or foolish gesture in the hopes of not having to go home alone. God forbid one should have to wake in the morning and not have anything to regret. To let another Saturday go by without the meaningless sexcapades of a hormone driven, alcohol induced night of carnal dysfunction would be a shame.

The guys at the pool tables race to start another game. Thinking they could squeeze out one more buck or two from a quick victory or at least, stall long enough to get a couple more drinks down.

Bill finishes his jack & coke. The walk across the street to his garage he has made many times. The hospital and the church are both just steps away, these steps forever linked together in his mind…it was an awful long fight. Tomorrow at the service he will be wearing these same clothes and smelling of cheap whiskey. Afterwards, he will return home for the first time in two weeks where he will be truly alone and face life without her in the light of day...

The rain and cold outside slows the exit of some. Susan, Barb and I are going to meet for breakfast as we often do, I will make sure they each make it home while biting my tongue when it is time to say goodbye to Barb, just like always. A hug and kiss on the cheek are waiting for me, I know, she always does that. And next Saturday I will take my usual place at the bar and think long and hard about professing my love for her right about the time her hand reaches for the dimmer switch and she says...

...Last call

that was one awesome piece.. one awesome piece. so much feeling.. take a bow.. take a bow :)

thank you....

On the Money KC,,,You make the pen,,,MOVE-IT,,MOVE-IT!!!!lol
Nice READ man...

t/y T

telling and with a sad undertone-nicely done/

thank you P...

really enjoyed

Great piece of work K, pulled at my heartstrings on more than one line....