The Bar

We met in a dingy western bar,
The only bar in town.
She slid onto the empty stool
Beside me.
I bought her a drink
While she lit a cigarette.
It's a lonely place,
This Five Star Lounge
Every face drawn in hopelessness
Hollow eyes
Empty hands
Reaching for another beer
"There's nothing to do for fifty miles,"
She sighed
"And no one to do it with."
"Let's go outside."
I looked over my whiskey glass
At her thin, tired, optimistic smile,
Then leisurely studied her body.
There was a desperate air about her
As if resigned to a life without romance
Yet still fearful of rejection.
Her shape was good,
Firmness retained
Despite apparent use.
And who was I to judge, anyway?
Was I not also in this crappy little desert hole,
With a life of equal desperation?
I slugged down the last of the Jim Beam
And dropped a five.
"Let's go," I said.
We slipped out the side door to the alley,
The old men's vacant eyes
Following us knowingly.
In the darkness and the sour smell of garbage
She held me, and kissed me.
"I need money,"
She whispered,
As I knew she would.
I slipped her a twenty.
She slipped to her knees.
"For another ten
I'll tell you I love you,"
She added
While loosening my belt.
Thus,
This young woman
About to caress
My solitary loneliness
Revealed her wisdom to me.
She recognized my true need:
Not alleyway sex,
But something more intangible,
Unattainable.
I flipped her two fives
And closed my eyes,
Pretending her words were real,
Pretending life was good,
Pretending there was hope in the universe.
The darkened alley,
Her sweet lips,
Her soft whispers
Made it easy to forget
The harsh realities of life.

Copyright © 2001 StaffWriter