Day-drinking at
a little beer joint
in a dusky, pinched Pittsburgh neighborhood.
Just me and the Momala bartender
silently watching a soap opera
on the tiniest TV ever made.
A beautiful small-screen coquette
mixes an Old-Fashioned for
an unexpected handsome guest
in the perfect TV den.
The bartender leans over to me:
”You know, they always have ice in these shows.”
She’s right.
No ice trays from the freezer.
No runs to the Quik-Stop.
A brimming ice bucket ready.
The cubes drop into a glass. Pour. Sip.
a little beer joint
in a dusky, pinched Pittsburgh neighborhood.
Just me and the Momala bartender
silently watching a soap opera
on the tiniest TV ever made.
A beautiful small-screen coquette
mixes an Old-Fashioned for
an unexpected handsome guest
in the perfect TV den.
The bartender leans over to me:
”You know, they always have ice in these shows.”
She’s right.
No ice trays from the freezer.
No runs to the Quik-Stop.
A brimming ice bucket ready.
The cubes drop into a glass. Pour. Sip.
Greg Clary is Professor Emeritus of Rehab and Human Services at Clarion University, Clarion Pa. His poems have appeared in The Watershed Journal and North/South Appalachia.
His photographs have been published in The Sun Magazine, Looking at Appalachia, and The Watershed Journal.
He resides in Sligo, Pennsylvania and is a Son of Turkey Creek, West Virginia
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So good and so true!
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