Bear held court Sunday mornings
At the end of the bar
The best restaurant in town.
The only restaurant in town.
The Sunday paper spread out on the bar
Empty mimosa glasses
And a plate of Canadian bacon
The bartender keeping both coming.
‘Papa P!’ he’d bellow ‘pull up a chair!’
To the chagrin of the few bluehairs in town
Having brunch instead of church.
And he’d pick my brain about
Movies Music Politics
Drugs
My daughter
My wanderings
Until it was time for me
To go.
Happened every time I came to town.
I didn’t know his name was
Paul
Until he was dead.
In a dream he asked
‘Please keep my chair swept clean.’
The bartender keeps that stool empty
Every Sunday.
- For Jake Hemming
keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.
Sometimes we make deep connections with people who don't even know our name. Beautiful.
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