Lightning Strikes By Keith Pearson

I am learning to drink left handed.

I like this bar. The game is on but the sound is off. The jukebox has plenty of stuff from the early 60s, Bobby Darin, Lou Christie. The stuff we grew up on. And the regulars know to leave me alone.

Except the guy next to me doesn’t know, and taps my cast with his beer bottle. Wha happen? You punch a wall or somethin?

I see the bartender flinch. Arthritis, I say. Had surgery last week.

He taps it again. You must be getting old! He’s got a big grin on his ugly face. Must be a bitch getting old!

Yeah, I say. Nothin’s easy.

The bartender interrupts, gets the guy’s attention with a story about a hooker and a priest.

I am learning to drink with my left hand. I’m managing just fine.

Later after the guy has gone and the night is winding down the bartender brings me one last one and says, Sorry bout that guy. He didn’t mean nuthin.

He tapped my arm one more time…

I figured, said the bartender. Fuck, you’re as good with the left as the right. He’s lucky you didn’t rearrange his face.

Oh yeah, I can do everything but wipe my ass. Gettin along just fine with the left.

And the bartender takes the cue and grins and walks away.

The jukebox comes up. Hey! Lou Christie! Man, I love that stuff.

I can drink with my left hand just fine.

keith pearson was born and raised in new hampshire and works at a local high school in the math department.