SCENES FROM THE FITZ By John Grey

She’s the last of her kind

in this bar that’s the last of its kind.

She smokes one cigarette after another,

lighting the next while the current one

is still lodged between her lips,

puffing smoke through her nose,

the side of her mouth, 

while ash drops on the counter,

lipsticked butts fill up the tray.

And the grizzled guy is the last of his kind,

a World War II vet, pushing ninety, 

downing shots while, 

shouting at the TV news,

until the liquor takes him out

just like the Germans could not,

and his head bumps the bar,

shakes up the woman’s ashtray.

Everyone else 

from the woman licking

the cherry off her cocktail sword

to the two young guys arguing sports

over beers from the tap,

are just more of many,

not the first 

and certainly not the last.

And then there’s the bartender.

He’s seen it all.

And yet he’s still seeing more of it. 

 

 

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Midnight Mind, Trampoline and Flights. Latest books, “Bittersweet”, “Subject Matters” and “Between Two Fires” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Levitate, White Wall Review and Willow Review.