Last Night on the
Town
The one who was
going to die this
night was propped
against the bar
by an artificial
limb. It was strange
watching that light
show, especially since
he was buying all
the losers drinks,
leading a show which
would end up a black
suit affair; not that
any of these guys
knew what a suit was.
Most bar guys would be
bummed when he went
but I wasn't: I'd
been called Dr. Death
before. These things
always seem to happen
on my shift & after
awhile you almost
get used to it.
I thought I was nice
person once upon
a time, but looking
into the eyes of dead
people does things to
you, I’m warped now,
broken, and nothing
is
going to change
that.
Still Life with Martini
They think it's funny
that my bar nickname
was Doctor Death.
I never killed any of
those people who
dropped
dead on me, it's just
that their numbers came
up
on my shift. The guy that
fell over and heart
attacked
at my feet, I never
even
served. Nor did I give
that Lady at the I Tie
anything; I pass the
cordial
cart by and she croaks.
That's my fault, right?
Ernie never even
touched
the martini before
he had an aneurysm
in the bathroom. He died at
my feet, thirty-three
years
old. I could see that
martini I made him,
shimmering on the
table,
long after he was gone,
losing its chill.
DOA
He was working
on a felony DWI
when they hit
the car broadside.
Later, cops would
say off the record:
"It was a good
thing no one was
smoking, there was
enough alcohol
inside that car
to start a fire
no five truck
fire department
town could ever
dream of putting out."
He looked relieved
they survived,
DOA reports must
be a real pain
in the ass.
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