Double Maker’s by Brian Harman

It started at the Tartan Room,
a side door dive bar 
for the up in years, Rick’s 
longtime Harley stop, a place 
for those who would drink 
a Rusty Nail with a T-bone.
I should have ordered 
an old Scotch on the rocks,
but it was my co-worker
Steve’s going away hangout,
and so, it was a double
Maker’s Mark, and another,
and as soon as the Tartans 
took over the room, it was 
off to Marty’s down Tustin 
Avenue, an even more 
casual hole, with pool tables, 
darts, a bartendress who’d 
been there forever. A couple
tequila shots and a pitcher
of beer later, a few friends
dropped off, so we called it,
headed to NORMS for some 
greasy, late night steak 
and eggs. In the booth, after 
a bite or two, that’s when 
I must have fallen asleep,
head resting forward, 
face above the 7.99 T-bone, 
hash browns, and over 
mediums. When I awoke,
the steak and eggs didn’t
sit well, didn’t smell right,
and after getting home,
I fluffed the porcelain 
pillow, too old for this shit 
anymore— should have
just ordered a Rusty Nail.

BRIAN HARMAN lives in Southern California where can be found drinking craft beers and writing late night poetry. His work has been published in Misfit Magazine, Nerve Cowboy, Chiron Review, and elsewhere. His poetry collection, Suddenly, All Hell Broke Loose!!! is available through Picture Show Press.