Open Mic Night at the Minerva Lounge By Tobi Alfier

She’s a closed-up woman,

bouncer in a gay bar

on Open Mic night.

God knows how it happened

but here she is, an unpaid extra

in the movie of her own life.

Hair the color of late summer wheat

pulled back over pixie-ears

as she checks I.D.’s, don’t let her

kind voice fool you, she’ll take a shot

and take you down in one fell swoop

if you misbehave. Now sign up

and get inside before she flattens you, 

the weather’s unkind to people by the door—

there go the tips.

The bartender’s eyes are tender,

especially to those who should’ve passed

by and passed—on their fifteen minutes

of rueful fame. Grief’s a regular

here, and a four-pour turning to six

is as gentle as a hospice nurse with

a hand on your shoulder.

The Open Mic bartender has a mega-crush

on the host, who spends his days

in the kitchens of cafes by the shore.

He smells of sweat and basil with

a touch of tartar sauce, his nose a bit white

from a line done out in his car as he grabs

his equipment.

These men think fame’s just

in their shadow. She hates to break

it to anyone, but you, in the dusky evening gown,

lips warm as bourbon and plausible voice,

you’ve been here before even if you’ve

never been here before. Praise-dance

or pray, you’ve nothing on the congregants

just down the street. What can I get you?

Your fortune says a shot of tequila,

wedge of lemon, and my salty lips. 

That’s it. Get out. 

Tobi Alfier is published nationally and internationally. Credits include War, Literature and the Arts, The American Journal of Poetry, KGB Bar Lit Mag, Washington Square Review, Cholla Needles, James Dickey Review, Gargoyle, Permafrost, Arkansas Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, and others.  She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (www.bluehorsepress.com).