THE FISHERMAN’S SHACK by John Clayton

Sits at the end of the canal
Under a stand of gnarly Black Oak trees.
“Looks like chicken coops pulled together”,
Says my pal.
People get so drunk in here they walk on their knees.

This place is really the pits.
Dave likes it because Shelby has big tits
Craig and Donnie are supposed to be here
But they won’t come never fear

The boardwalk on the way in is squishy and a little weak.
It’s dark inside so watch your feet.
This place is really a dump.
Everything in here is 100% junk.

Climb on a bar stool
Hear the clack of men playing pool.
Shelby is slinging beer in this place
And has a menacing snarl on her face.

West Virginia on the next stool
Tries to flirt but doesn’t have the tools.
He gets a negative response instead.
Says she, “you’re a inbred.”

“No I ain’t, I’m smarter than that.”
Shelby got the response she wanted and smirks like a cat.
“She’s just mad.
Her tips have been bad.”

Sure enough, Craig and Donnie never do show.
Dave’s friend Jay is slam’n beers like he has to go.
As long as you’re buying and the beer is free
Jay’ll keep drinking, no time to pee.

Yeungling, Bush, Miller Lite
I think Shelby wants to fight.
Oh good, it’s 5:00 her shift ends.
Here comes Tricia, her work begins.

There’s an alligator on the ceiling walking around
With a mannequin head in it’s mouth, facing down
Two Black Tipped Sharks hang from monofilament line
Grasping a hand and foot on which they dine.

Damn! I forgot the smoke.
So damn thick it makes you choke.
The haze is not purple, definitely blue
When you smell an ash tray, that will be you.

There is entertainment, a jukebox machine.
Damn, this place is dirty, it has never been clean.
There a dude fingering a Kytar, who looks really high.
Better hit the bathroom before I say bye.

One door says gulls
The other says bouys.
The smell when you open the door tells you where you’re at.
I’ll be glad to get out of here, I’ll say that.

John Clayton lives in rural Maries County, Missouri with his wife, Dawn, on 56 acres where, with the exception of invasive spices and the garden, nature is left to her own devices. John has been published in Gasconade Review and online in Wine Drunk Sidewalk: Ship Wrecked in Trumpland.