David’s Balancing Act In A
Cleveland Bar, the 1970s
Three
days out of detox makes it
an
even more amazing balancing act:
David
stands on top of a barstool
shouting
at a waitress while tightening
his
tie to go back to bank clerking.
He’s
dead now, but it was quite
a
balancing act.
Not
because he was drunk or a drunk
which
was obvious to all,
but
because he stood on the slippery
red
leather bar stool seat shoeless,
in
his stocking feet.
No
one helped him up, or down.
No
one paid attention to what he was
shouting,
least of all the waitress.
He
was a statuesque marvel,
an
unappreciated drunken Adonis
(could
he have stood on one leg?)
but
he is dead now; one night he simply
drank
beyond capacity and died.
He
didn’t die from a fall off a
red-leather-covered
barstool in
The
Grog Shoppe in Cleveland, Ohio,
in
the 1970’s.
The
waitress is married to a UPS driver
and
lives in Erie, Pennsylvania.
They
have two children, Kara, 5, and Max, 3.
Kara
resembles her father;
Max
has no reason to.
Am very familiar with the scenario in stanza three....sometimes it isn't the body that dies. Excellent poem!
ReplyDeleteThank you for your continuing support, and to Alice and Camille.
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