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Every Night In That Bar
JZ ( / )

Every Night In That Bar

Poem By Justin Zahn

Every night in that bar,
between five and six,
a man came in
to have a drink.

He would walk inside
with the same dark coat,
worn out shoes,
and melancholy look.

His face was blank
and worn with age,
filled with bad memories,
of grief and pain.

He'd sit down at the bar
and stare at the counter,
sipping his drink
for about an hour.

Never looking up
to talk to others.
Alone he sat,
never bothered.

After he was finished,
he'd pay his tab,
walk out the door,
and hail a cab.

Everyday he would be there,
around the same time,
till one night he wasn't;
he had died.

There was no one there
when they buried him dead.
He had no family,
or a single friend.

He was buried on a hill,
with a single tombstone.
It read, 'John Smith,
Loved by no one.'

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Comments (2)

Great haunting tale, a somber look at the defeated and wrecked.
Bit Bukowski'ish....Liked that one! Well Done..


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