Inside This Bar |
by Jim Creston

He sits at the small round wooden table
with his back against the wall,
and the gray hoodie pulled over his head
during this rainy summer evening.

For the longest time
he sits here,
and alone,
his head down,
maybe catching a nap.

I'm thinking,
he could be homeless.
It's nice of the establishment
allowing him to lie low,
off the streets,
with a place to quieten the mind
and rest his body.

The sound of sirens grow stronger
as the vehicles rush in behind the building.
Are they here for him?

He gets up and
walks across the floor,
goes behind the bar
and in front of me he takes the soda gun
making himself a drink.
His reply to a patron,
“A cook tripped the back door alarm.”
Obviously he works here,
and I think again
not to judge from appearances.

Inside this urban bar
nestled among Nicollet Mall,
a group of guys are singing,

“Country roads, take me home.”

Jim Creston is a contemporary poet residing in Minneapolis, Minnesota.  Some of his recent works have been published in the online magazines CUIB-NEST-NIDO and In Your Face Radio. Jim has released his first book of collected poems titled Don't Swallow The Toothpaste.